Hip Vienna 2014 Season eight - Engl

to russia with love Attraction, desire, charism, magic, Esprit, beauty and sex klaus von oesterreich Deutsche Ausgabe

HIP VIENNA Essayistic Lifestyle BOOK SEASON eight

“Russia is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.�

Sir Winston Churchill

For Conchita and Vladimir

alpha-community publishing presents

TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE KLAUS VON OESTERREICH ON TOUR WITH THE RUSSIANS Hip vienna SEASON EIGHT essayistic lifestyle book with confidential, smart and eccentric addresses

Lyrixx klaus von oesterreich Authors Alexander Rinnerhofer Marko Locatin Nikolaus Schrefl Art Direction Nikolaus Schrefl, Fritz Zaunrieth Inspirational Mastermind Nadine Petzel Special thxs to Vasily Tolstunov Photos Nikolaus Schrefl, Markus Kloiber Ads & Marketing Stephanie De Barizi Graphic Design Fritz Zaunrieth Copy Editing & Translation Barbara Hofmann Concept, Production, Styling alpha-community.com

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Juergen Teller ACCESSORIES S/S 14 www.viviennewestwood.com Leonard Peltier is innocent

HENNESSY PARADIS IMPÉRIAL

HENNESSY PARADIS IMPÉRIAL

Eine köstliche und einzigartige Assemblage aus den wertvollsten Eaux-de-vie aus Hennessy’s ältesten Reserven des

Eine köstliche und einzigartigeDas Assemblage aus den Gründerkellers.

Ergebnis ist eine „imperiale Hochzeit“ wertvollsten Eaux-de-vieaus ausEaux-de-vie Hennessy’s Reserven des desältesten 19. und frühen 20. Jahrhunderts.

DankErgebnis ihrer Reifung in älteren Fässern aus feinster französischer Gründerkellers. Das ist eine „imperiale Hochzeit“ Eiche diese20.

Eaux-de-vie über eine sanfte Holznote, aus Eaux-de-vie des 19. verfügen und frühen Jahrhunderts. ohne gleichzeitig zu sehr von dem Holz beeinflusst zu sein.

Dank ihrer Reifung in älteren Fässern aus feinster französischer Die Designerin Stéphanie Balini kreierte einen Flakon aus

Eiche verfügen diese Eaux-de-vie über eine sanfte Holznote,

facettiertem Kristall-Glas mit einem Verschluss aus

ohne gleichzeitig zu sehr von dem Holz beeinflusst zu sein.

geschliffenem Kristall, der in Silber und mit einem

Die Designerin Stéphanie Balini kreierte einen Flakon aus 18 Karat vergoldeten Ring eingefasst ist. Jeder Flakon facettiertem Kristall-Glas mit Verschluss aus isteinem einzigartig und nummeriert. geschliffenem Kristall, der in Silber und mit einem 18 Karat vergoldeten Ring eingefasst ist. Jeder Flakon Inspiriert von Hennessy Paradis und dessen spezieller ist einzigartig und nummeriert.

Definition von Eleganz steht Hennessy Paradis Impérial für eine betonte Subtilität und große Sinnlichkeit mit unvergleichlich intensivem, fast unendlich wirkendem Nachklang am Gaumen.

Er zeigt Aromenund von dessen Jasmin, Orangenblüten und andere Inspiriert von Hennessy Paradis spezieller fruchtige Noten, gewürzt mitImpérial rauchigen Nuancen, Definition von Eleganz steht Hennessy Paradis für eine welche die Frische der blumigen Aromen angenehm ausgleichen.

betonte Subtilität und grosse Sinnlichkeit mit unvergleichlich

Der extrem lange Abgang überrascht nicht zuletzt auch

intensivem, fast unendlich wirkendem Nachklang am Gaumen.

wegen seiner köstlichen Textur. Nur sehr wenige Cognacs

Er zeigt Aromen von Jasmin, Orangenblüten und andere

verfügen über solch ein Fortdauern.

fruchtige Noten, gewürzt mit rauchigen Nuancen, welche die Frische der blumigen Aromen angenehm ausgleichen.

Der extrem lange Abgang überrascht nicht zuletzt auch wegen seiner köstlichen Textur. Nur sehr wenige Cognacs verfügen über solch ein Fortdauern.

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THXS TO: Sonja Schatz, Sonja Klima, Roman Rafreider, Kirill Kourlaev, Olga Esina, Lidia Baich, Massimo Giordano, Alexandra Swarovski, Manfred Stalmajer, Christiane Weissenborn, Fanny Holzer, Mario Baier, Wolfgang Buchegger, May Sequrad-Base, Alexander Rinnerhofer, Marko Locatin, Marko Pajevic´, Nadine Petzel, Marc Moosleitner

1st edition Copyright © 2014 ALPHA-COMMUNITY PUBLISHING All rights reserved, including those of partial print or the reproduction of photographs.

ISBN 978-3-902-469-56-4 Print Druckerei Janetschek

„Schönheit ist nicht alles, aber Geschmack sollte man haben.“

Geschäft/Store Julius Meinl am Graben, Graben 19, A-1010 Wien Mo – Fr 8.00 – 19.30 Uhr, Sa 9.00 – 18.00 Uhr office@meinlamgraben.at, www.meinlamgraben.at Tel. +43(0)1 532 33 34, Fax +43(0)1 532 33 34 2090

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EDITORIAL 39 ST. ELLAS, RATHER WILD …

Katharina of St. Petersburg and a stunt involving miniature Viennese schnitzels at St. Ellas in Boboville. 43 Nascha’S, IN THE EVENING …

At the hip Nascha’s, Kristin and Klaus von Oesterreich share their dinner in a way that is nothing if not numerologically sound. And the latter is suddenly confronted with Werner Heisenberg.

52

OH WELL, THE BELOVED FAMILY …

Nephew Yves from Paris wants to become an actor.

Wants to be like Belmondo in Breathless.

With all due respect: This is so not going to happen. 59 JOHN HARRIS …

Genghis Khan has infiltrated Styria with a Trojan, no doubt.

And it is called to action now … Hopefully Thomas Birnbaumer knows how to prevent this. 71 marco locatin as GUEST AUTHOR …

Marco Locatin takes us on an art-minded tour through Vienna. It ends as these things often do: at the hip Freyung 4 with a really good Johnnie Walker Blue. 84 PHotO ESSAY …

People and places that are currently all the rave in HIP VIENNA. 91 IN THE NAME OF ART …

Marko Locatin presents the hottest galleries in town, as well as the grand old houses like the Albertina or the Kunsthistorisches Museum.

133

VIENNA's ART SET …

Markus Kloiber focusses his lens on gallery owners Hans Knoll and Peter Coeln, but also on the likes of René Burri or Nicolaus Schafhausen. 150 HIP PLACES …

Klaus von Oesterreich’s choice of hotels, restaurants, bars and stores. A careful selection based on the dynamics of the soul and the favourability of lighting conditions.

161

FASHION SHOOTS AT KARE …

The hottest in fashion in an equally hot furniture store named KARE.

178

klaus von oestErreich testS THE lexus is300 …

There is something decidedly zen-buddhistic about this wonderful vehicle. And it has our hero wear his heart on his sleeve. 199 The perfect weekend …

At the magnificent Reiters Supreme, Klaus von Oesterreich meets the international ballet stars Olga Esina and Kirill Kourlaev.

207

gUEST AUTHOR alexander rinnerhofer … … spends some quality time at Gut Oggau in Burgenland.

As soon as he has left the city behind, his lungs open and he starts to breathe. 216 rinnerhofer 2 …

At Lake Neusiedl. Vast, diverse and full of secrets.

Isn’t there something hypnotic about this mighty inland lake … 222 HIP PLAYERS …

All’s well that ends well: the dramatis personae of HIP VIENNA, SEASON EIGHT.

227

KAFFEEHAUS

TRADITION

ZUCKERBÄCKER

KUNST SEIT 1786

KOHLMARKT 14 | 1010 WIEN DEMEL.COM

To Russia with Love A quarrel between two drunk Russians about the merits of either poetry or prose took a deadly turn: The discussion of the two men escalated in such a way that the advocate of poetry rammed a knife into the prose fan’s chest. Last September in Rostov-on-Don, another two well-oiled Russians argued about the philosopher Immanuel Kant; their argument got out of hand and one of the squabblers shot the other in the head. Yes, dear friends, the Russians like to make their position clear.

Klaus von Oesterreich records some of his encounters with Russian friends. Art plays a major role, no doubt. But love and passion are even more important, and the heart – the heart is crucial. Mind you, the Russians have more than enough of the latter. To Russia with love!

April 2014

1

klausvonoesterreich

essay

To Russia with Love

Katharina of St. Petersburg and the miniature Viennese schnitzels at St. Ellas in Boboville, as well as some notes on the buttered goods at the hip bakery of the Conran hotel The Guesthouse.

Black. It seems as if luxury knows no other colour. Black caviar, black pearls, black truffles, black diamonds, black stretch limousines, Black Amex, Black Label, black underwear by Agent Provocateur, black Aston Martin DB9, the best golf player of our time is black (if one’s still allowed to put it that way), while the most successful rap musician is a fay. By various expert groups, this is sometimes referred to as the Tiger-Eminem Reverse Thrust. OK, time was when the Western luxury segment, at least, used to sport blond hair: Grace Kelly, Marilyn Monroe, Brigitte Bardot. But nowadays, surprise, surprise, black is the new fair. Angelina Jolie, Anne Hathaway …

I check myself. Actually, this metaphor is so beaten that it’s already black (again) and blue … complete bollocks, purest nonsense. A hair-raising comparison indeed.

Essay HipVienna 43

Katharina of St. Petersburg just sent a text message, she is currently on a lear jet approaching Vienna. The jet belongs to Vassily Jamasinikov and is a Bombardier from the new 75Series. After each flight mission, Jamasinikov has the plane energetically cleaned. The whole enterior, for example, is then smoked out with green incense from Oman, with Oman Hougari / Al hojari (Olibanum – boswellia sacra), to be more precise. Jamasinikov has a background in ocean research and his headquarters in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, which, in plain old English, is the City Of Peter And Paul In Kamchatka, and really very, very far on the other side – if the weather is clear, you can see Japan. Jamasinikov is convinced that, whenever his private jet spends a day at Vienna Airport, the city’s energy, its vibes, transfer themselves onto the plane. The guy had his scientists come up with vibration tables for various European cities; and according to these, Vienna vibrates with a lower, more lingering frequency than others. If you were to believe his advisers, this results in a certain tendency towards depression and inferior complexes, a tendency that is integral to the city’s atmosphere. And there’s one thing Jamasinikov is certain about: this is so NOT the kind of energy his Sibirian hometown requires. To tell the truth, there’s plenty of that already available in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. In comes the green incense, speeding up the frequency of vibration in the lear jet.

By the way, the frequency of Paris is altogether different: After a stop at Charles de Gaulle, the jet’s interior is therefore thoroughly ionized with the help of an impressive Kärcher device. The reason must be that Paris swings so multi-­cultural, that its distinct currents can be so easily identified. However, this triggers further questions: What does the guy do after his jet has returned from Damascus, Kiev, Tripolis or Freetown in Sierra Leone? Anyway – next time I come back from S­ tyria, I will follow Jamasinikov’s example and confront my Lexus Hybrid with green incense from Oman.

I am sitting at the Bakery of The Guesthouse, Manfred Stallmajer’s new hotel in Vienna. British, London, Terence Conran. The most remarkable thing here is the elegance of the waiters, and if I say elegant, I do not refer to their outfits or grooming, but rather to their conduct, a beautiful affair all the way from the choreo­graphy of their movements to their manner of speaking and subtle attentiveness. This carefully designed terrain has become the new realm of a delicious baked good, the butter salzstangerl, one of the city’s many prodigal sons, lost for two decades at least, now gloriously resurrected in all its white-flour glory. This inconspicuous piece of white bread, moulded to a stick and sprinkled with coarse salt, bears witness to a great passion, namely the art of baking. Natually, this success has many fathers, one of them is the flour delivered by small Burgenland mills; no industry

44 HipVieNna Essay

product with its biotechnically engineered additives has ever been allowed close to it. Ladies and gentlemen, what we experience here is the renaissance of the bread basket, the comeback of the handmade kaiser roll, and we do so in an era ­notorious for the brave consumer’s uprising against evil, or rather, The Bad White Flour.

Granted: Our world is afloat with foodstuffs that come with a distinctive negative karma, mostly due to their abundant use of flour, sugar and foaming agents.

This is, undoubtedly, the day and age of the industry roll, the energy drink and the coffee pad.

But let’s go back to the bad white flour. What few people know is that it goes back a long way: even the old Egyptians used to love it. Not the pure white, very fine variety we use today, but an archaic version of it. White flour was a prerogative of the rich Egyptian upperclass. The great unwashed, by contrast, had to eat bread made of wholemeal flour. And here come the bad news: A couple of scientists have recently investigated some Egyptian mummies dating back to around 1550 BC. Since at the time, only those belonging to the upper strata of society were treated to the courtesy of embalmment, the scientiests applied their skills to priests, rulers and court personnel. And weren’t they smitten when they found arteriosclerotic debris in the blood vessels of a former Egyptian princess! After all, it is common belief that arteriosclerosis is a disease exclusive to our affluent societies of today, a price we pay for fat food, smoking and as little physical exercise as we can get away with. So well, it’s good-bye to these theories, and hello to White Flour Has Been The Deadly Enemy All Along. “Too bad,” is what I think while relishing my second butter salzstangerl of the day. And if this were not enough: in front of me I have a plate with what must be called the very best eggs benedict in town.

All this aside: what brings Katharina of St. Petersburg to Vienna is an art mission.

I am to introduce her to a couple of gallery owners, she wants to buy Nitsch, ­perhaps Helnwein as well. She stays close by, at Hotel Sacher, she loves the old school charisma also known from The Pierre in New York and The Dorchester in London. They all breath Western power, and the Russians love it – they really are into old school, they buy apartments in historical buildings, and then they buy the art that goes best with it – old paintings, old tableware, old this and old that.

Believe me: You won’t, for the life of you, manage to sell a rooftop flat to a ­Russian, stylish as it may be, and neither will any one of them ever set up camp at a ­freezer compartment like Le Méridien. As always, Kevin Delane, multi-faceted genius from New York, stays at the Lamée, where else.

Essay HipVienna 45

Katharina of St. Petersburg looks exactly like one imagines a Russian princess in a Tolstoy novel to look like. In other words, she is the it version, far removed from the image burned into the minds of most Viennese, which has all female visitors from the former Eastern bloc meander over Kohlmarkt tarted-up in mink coats and with cash-filled Fendi bags. For the Viennese, these creatures trigger some kind of genetic Rorschach test, and a certain type of local ladies will recognize them as their doppelgaengers. Needless to say that they also fit into the matrix of the injected lips, highly popular with actresses who are booked for their physical rather than their artistic expressiveness. Indeed, they lack the style of a New York Bergdorf Blonde, but still, they are just as rich and have the same goals in life: Buy expensive, no other way to know you have bought smartly.

And then there is Katharina: in her early thirties and of a beauty that has me bow humbly before God’s original Creation Plan, the one that made him invent delicate blond Russian females as contemporaries of Fabergé. She is wearing casual jeans by Nobody and a white woolen cap by Peak Performance, accompanied by a wristwatch and a jacket by Alexander McQueen. In the afternoon, I will take her to Galerie Kaiblinger and show her the famous Helnwein painting featuring Mickey Mouse. And in the evening we will dine at St. Ellas, the headquarters of the Boboville set.

With women like Katharina, Living In The Same City becomes a mission in life, and all you expect as a reward. OK, I’m exaggerating, but babes like her always inspire my inner megalomaniac.

I get into a taxi heading towards Kaiserstrasse 67, to Grand Cru, the avant-garde address for all matters chocolate. I want to buy some goodies for Katharina, a ­Welcome to Vienna without all the usual Sacher-Torte bric-a-brac. So I have them arrange a generous two pounds of happiness, featuring my two orgasm chocola­ tiers Michel Cluizel from Paris and Giraudi from Bologne. The times when B ­ elgian truffles had you score are over – so over, my dear.

Between you and me: I am suffering right now. A hair-rising scene which crashed into my life two weeks ago is repeating itself like a broken record, and I have to bear witness to the B Disaster at least twice a day. The scene where B like ­Butcher Him serves me my last meal, her version of The Last Supper, where she is bending over me, balancing on Jimmy Choo heels, while she is tearing my heart out of my body. In her sleepless rooftop flat, with her sleepless eyes, she wakes me from my own vegetative state. Her sensual lips formulate her face into a cartoon

46 HipVieNna Essay

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cat ­grimace, Lara Croft as Escher would have drawn her. “Fuck off, your time’s running out.” No “Don’t worry, we’ll get by”, or “I’ll help you through it” or “Now, what’s the problem? You can tell me”. Nothing of that kind, nada and niente. B has turned into a machine, has lost all human qualities. What was it that Isaac Asimov said, in his first law of Three Laws of Robotics: “A robot may not injure a human being …” I am currently cruising through a nirvana of my own creation, operated by remote control, wondering if the psychedelic minidrama mentioned above would not have worked even better performed in Christian Louboutins – although B is rather the type to wear jeans. Anyway, I refuse to suffer like the losers heavily rotated by Sam Packinpah, who have to die in order to remain true to themselves. In eight weeks, at the latest, I will have B washed out of my biochemistry; I will drink hecto-litres of water, Evian of course, what else, and I will emerge fully purified. I will shed myriads of tiny, cool, Frenchinspired tears. Hey man, an enforced cleaning process, luxury first hand, courtesy of a dominatrix. ­Courage, humbleness, devotion: B like Baleful, B like Ballsup, B like Bah-humbug. B like Britt.

For two weeks now, I’ve honestly tried to compensate for this emotional disaster by permanently hitting on all possible women; almost every day I had dinner with one lady or another (sometimes there was a little smooching afterwards, rare cases included sexual activities), yet B, it seems, had got it into her head not to get out of mine. However, this paranoid scouting tour has produced Kristin, a very promising encounter indeed. Tomorrow I will wine and dine her at the Nascha’s, one of the hottest venues in town. She is going to kill B, or so I hope.

Early evening, and I call Katharina of St. Petersburg at Hotel Sacher, asking which time I should pick her up. 9.30 pm, she says, but first she wants to go shoe shopping. I think, darling, it is 7 pm, the shops are all closed, but I don’t want her to be under the impression that yes, in terms of opening times Vienna is not at all far from the former Eastern bloc.

And mark my words: for women, men might be more important than handbags, but they can never be as important as shoes. Therefore I call my friends at Amicis, the hippest multi-brand store in Vienna, and ask them if they are willing to fire up their Tuchlauben shop for a lady from St. Petersburg. They are. After that, I call my very good friend Tatjana, a kind of university don where international shoe design is concerned, and she is going to accompany Katharina to Amicis.

48 HipVieNna Essay

© harald eisenberger

modern museum and habsburg residential palace

www.albertina.at AlbertinAplAtz 1, 1010 ViennA dAily 10 Am– 6 pm, wednesdAy 10 Am– 9 pm tickets: www.AlbertinA.At/ticketshop

Essay HipVienna 49 ALB_INS_HIP Vienna_140x228.indd 1

05.05.14 14:30

A little later Tatjana reports that, given the choice between Tom Ford, Alexander McQueen, Stella McCartney, Balenciaga, Balmain, Givenchy, Isabel Marant and Jimmy Choo, Katharina eventually went for blue, high-heeled pumps by, no surprises here, Tom Ford. All this is right by me; I consider myself very fortunate as I’m now sitting between two exceptional beauties at Martina Kraler’s and R ­ odschel Rachnaev’s St. Ellas, and for once I find it very easy not to think of B (haha).

Katharina and Tatjana have already become the best of friends. A union undoubtedly brought about by their shared shopping experience. For the male audience out there: this equals a pub crawl, a fight and, as a top-off, one more for the road.

Whatever sex we are, bonding remains essential. This aside, I vehemently disagree with Giorgio Armani who once said that “there is no virtue in creating clothes that are not practical”. With regard to Katharina’s acquisitions: items like these should never be taken off, not even in bed. We order another serving of Amuse-Gueule, a microscopic Rib Eye steak, a classic main course redesigned as a teaser, one of Rodschel’s infinite innovations. But Our Lady From Russia now wants a Viennese schnitzel, by all means, and I can convince the padrone to do us the favour, although this place is not the Viennese schnitzel’s natural habitat. He wants us to take it as a starter, says that having Viennese schnitzel is a God-given right, no matter which course of the meal. What is more, it will allow us to re-evaluate our Viennese schnitzel Phase, will end its traumatic connotations of an oppressive-compulsive disorder, a Sunday midday nightmare from childhood, each time ­forcing us into a state of physical resignation, cream-cucumber salad or not.

All through dinner, we are being held captive by a torrent of the Look At Us We Have Read Michael Bulgakov kind, escorted by the occasional expertise on ­Moscow’s top-end call girls and a discussion of contemporary Austrian painting.

Yes, the latter took place, I kid you not. Names like Elke Krystufek or Herbert Brandl, and, naturally, Nitsch are mentioned – to buy them, big style, and to take them home: The latter, by the way, is a special favourite among the high society of St. Petersburg – or the exact opposite, at this stage we are unable to tell what’s what.

50 HipVieNna Essay

Kevin Delane and I are sitting at the Bloom and as usual, we keep it classic with the classics: Campari Soda. Anyhow, art is the topic of the day.

If you are Arabel Karajan, you are staying at the Lamée. If you are Vassily ­Jamasinikov, you are staying at the Lamée. Kevin Delane, who I want to bring in touch with Katharina of St. Petersburg, has landed in a mission that is art. And it goes without saying that I have booked him into the Lamée.

The Lamée is a convincing blend of rather swanky on one side and totally relaxed on the other; like your best female friend, always ready to paint the town in a Tom Ford outfit, glorious to look at, but quite as easily persuaded to join you for a beer and a football game. Ok, let’s say for a glass of champagne and a football game.

Or, rather, a glass of white wine and a polo game. Anyway, we plan to go on a small tour through the 7th district and have come to the Bloom for a warm-upper dressed as Campari Soda. Strategically, the Bloom is perfectly placed in the inner city, it is understated and easy. Beautiful designs, all very elaborate, you feel as if you are on a visit to rich friends. And where the arts are concerned, the place is rather inspiring. The lady in charge is Christiane Weissenborn, she has developed the concept for this beautiful spot; I plan to also introduce her to Kevin Delane.

Christiane Weissenborn, by the way, is also the soulful mastermind behind the extravagant Hotel Topazz. The windows of this architectural gem are like the eyes of Vienna, they look at you in a decidedly loving way. Be that as it may, the lady is very well read and knows an aweful lot about art.

I, in turn, know sod all about art, ars longa, vita brevis (art is long and life is short), but the less I know the more I talk about it, and at the moment I am bending Kevin’s ear: Did he know that Kippenberger’s Paris Bar from 1991 had been auctioned at Christie’s for 2.3 million pounds sterling, for all we know many times more than what Michel Würthle had got when financial difficulties had forced him to sell the piece to London gallery owner Charles Saatchi in 2004. And Kevin and I are still quarrelling about an incident that took place in 2010 in Paris, on the occasion of an Albert Oehlen exhibition, and had us pin two different opinions at the Eiffel Tower: Was it all iconoclastic or just a gentle atmospheric abstraction, is a painter obliged to lay out his colour palette in such a claustrophobically tight way that he will eventually drown in it? Kevin knows the stunt already, listens to me quite patiently for a while, and then stops me with the memorable words “Shut up!” Later on I will use the very same phrase in quite a different context.

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Kristin and I share the delicacies served at Nascha’s in a way that does the numerologically minded proud; later in the taxi, she undresses for me.

So I go to meet Kristin at Nascha’s. I am wearing a combat suit by Tom Ford and a white shirt by Dior; the cuff links are designs by my favourite goldsmiths Maxi Semler and Sabine Bomm aka Bomm & Semmler, the tie is Alexander McQueen.

All accessories courtesy of my ex-girlfriend Britt. Originally, I was planning to give them to one of the Schwedenplatz dossers, together with a cinnamon coloured suit

by Romeo Gigli from the 1990s, and a button-down shirt by Paul Smith dating back to my Berlin years. Wanted to fraternise with one of the world’s no-hopers by using my second-hand gear to turn him into an earlier version of myself, a version which, back in the early nineties, walked through life feeling much less pain.

What I had in mind was an open air adaptation of Schnitzler’s La Ronde or, even better, a Viennese version of Leos Carax’s Les Amants du Pont-Neuf. Perhaps the garments would have granted the dosser five seconds of glamour, the very ones that had been taken from me. On some fucked-up bench in the Stadtpark, covered by the sports pages of the Süddeutsche. People, it is cold outside. Yet memory dies last, and in the end I was not up to it. And: I intend to think of Britt during the next attack, the next love enterprise; she’ll be with me in the shape of cuff links, beautiful, noble, cold. David Bowie would say: Wham, bam, thank u ma’am …! B like Baudelaire, the Fleurs du Mal. I am sitting opposite to Kristin at the rather cool and stylish Nascha’s. After 20 years with Do & Co, Tarik Canakli has added this exciting new location to Vienna’s gastronomic layout. Tarik is a gastronome extraordinaire, a perfect mixture of visionary and pragmatist. Kristin, on the other hand, is wearing an all-terrain cocktail dress by Alexander McQueen, the sandals are Bottega Veneta and the IWC Aquatimer is from the Sixties. An elegant woman wearing a memento of masculinity: I must say, I really like that. Ideally, she will soon floor the accelerator of an Aston Martin DB9 with a Vivienne Westwood ankle boot. Could also be an Aston Martin DB4 from 64 (264 PS). Anyway, this is what I call sexy.

The smart waiter, his face a mixture of Giancarlo Fisicella and Sean Penn, serves us an entrée of carpaccio with honey mayonnaise, miso and shitake mushrooms.

I ask him whether he could serve the 16 pieces of the first-course pasta in a 9-to7 break-down, explain to him about numerology and evil demons that loiter somewhere in the stratosphere, and that for centuries, the 8-to-8 division has been causing big misfortune (Versailles, Austerlitz). And apart from this, 9 and 7 are essen-

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tial pillars of my birth date. The waiter has no problem with that whatsoever. I ask him whether he is aquainted with Werner Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle.

He is able to answer the question in the affirmative. This makes me a little nervous. The white wine is from Tement, and we don‘t make small talk about classical music, we don’t exchange truisms à la The Russians Are Just So Melancholic, or that one tends to like the Italians better because their scores are so dramatically beautiful. She tells me about Arrigo Boito, the Paduan sans self-esteem, who wrote the libretti for Otello and Falstaff in Verdi’s shadow and who, it seems, became one of the champions of a renewed Italian literature. The fact that for more than a decade, I’ve been dreaming of riding the waves listening to Eric Satie’s Gymnopédies on a waterproof iPod does not impress Kristin at all. On the contrary, she advises me to try a Frederic Rzewski recording of the Stockhausen piece Mister X: given its spatialisation and the proportional relation between an average Portuguese Atlantic wave and my estimated height of 182 cm, this would indeed be the avantgarde of the avant-garde.

This woman has enormous scope. Presumably she is a con woman extraordinaire, or one of those semi-educated birds from a provincial backwater. The latter are often surprisingly clever. In any case, she has taste. On her slim ring finger, she is wearing a Herbert Schullin creation worth a freehold flat, a rather fat diamond of the I Am Set For Life kind, and her neck is decorated with a subtly understated emerald choker, a fragile, fluid design. My guess would be St. Petersburg, F ­ abergé epoch, perfectly in tune with her movements, courtesy of Moscow Ballet ­Academy. While her educational design clearly demands underwear by Agent Provocateur. I switch to infrared mode and see nothing but black. Another stimulating factor. What Kristin didn’t know: Mozart has also been Italian, and rumours have it that he did not die in Vienna, but simply left for Florence.

Seems he had lost the drive for our local Baroque establishment, and who can blame him? In Italy he continued composing, but allowed Rossini to publish his works under his name. Isn’t it common knowledge that Rossini himself was altogether a better cook? Unbelie­vable, but true, says I. Kristin looks at me with her penetrating blue eyes; this is Aquitaine, wild, pure, sublime, broken by metrehigh Atlantic waves. Eyes embedded in a well-designed and beautiful St. Petersburg face, the face as a logical ­pathway from urban Russia to the Pyrenees foothills somewhere near Biarritz, a journey accompanied by a Borodin as well as a Jean-Jacques Rousseau opera.

She senses that I am scanning her, and she plays along dauntless. Maybe her whole physiognomy is a well-designed Rorschach test and whoever meets her, sees his

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own personal landscape in her. A kind of Herald Tribune page 1, a worldwide presence, to be read everywhere. To my friend Walter Wolf, for instance, she would be the Gobi desert, one of its more adventurous passages, at a time when it is crossed by some noble nomadic people. Anyway, the first thing I noticed about her was her exciting body, its architecture resembling that of the Nordic type: tough like Softly Awakes My Heart from Camille Saint-Saens’ Samson et Dalila, smooth and sleek like Jacques Ibert’s Symphonie marine, archaic like the drum beats of a Sicilian funeral march. Oh my dear, what a score.

Still, all this is brainfuck, all this I Simply Love Classical Music, it leaves me cold, I couldn’t care less. I dare say it won’t impress anyone, with the probable exception of Tina from Graz. And with her, there is no limit, tell her whatever you want, be it that Goethe’s Faust is the pseudonym of a German boxer or that Toulouse Lautrec is the name of a French football team. But don’t try this with a woman of Kristin’s league. Especially not if you are nourishing the ambition to, one day, become her power house. OK, perhaps as a warm-up. I do not need the hydraulic pathos, even if I have it down cold, in football terms, I want to play this woman adventurous, not result-oriented. I am playing the position of centre forward, I do not want to cream it off, I want to play the opening pass, right into the middle of the field. I won’t hide like the Italians, with their Catenaccio tactics, I do not want to run her over like the brutes from England, no, I want to conquer her via the artful We Are Eleven In One Ronaldhino variant, the kind of advance you need all your courage for, the dangerous game, the risky move, the completely free, totally obsessed, highly emotional relationship between man and ball. Fact is I am going to risk it. If I fail, I will need Zidane’s melancholy, think of him during the world championship final in Berlin against Italy, when he threw himself into this utterly amazing header, a header with all the fragile quality of calligraphy. Unfortunately it went to the crossbar. Must not happen to me, since this would mean: perfectly placed, still bouncing back. Zidane and I have a lot in common. Approximately 50,000 dead hair folicles. Now I feel sexy indeed!

Well, well, back to the here and now: I am already dressed in the clown’s costume complete with hidden truth, and right now I am about to start pulling a stunt with waiter Salvatore. Objective: to downgrade the two main courses into three. To divide a total of 6 small filets mignon with violet chips and cranberries into 3 portions of 2. Which in this case has nothing to do with any world conspiracy formula, but rather with the classic sequence of courses: Kristin prefers to have only a reduced variant of the main course, and as an entremets she would like to have a salmon salad with seaweed and wasabi. Therefore I explain to Salvatore that I

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want the first third of the main course as entremets, and the second third of the main course as, why not, my main course. Additionally, I would like to have the second entremets to be served with an additional plate, so that Kristin may have a teaser of her own main course. I ask him whether he can tell me something about the mental stage the calf was in before it was slaughtered, since this is important information, at least in my eyes. The calf, says Salvatore, had lived with the intuitive knowledge of being an important part of a slow food chain, and thus died calmly and contentedly. I am looking into Kristin’s eyes and think: Dear beef, thanks for dying for us, I am grateful indeed.

Kristin’s iPhone is issuing a monotonous trrr trrr, trrr trrr. It sounds a bit like the singing of a house martin. The trash I am currently throwing at her sounds more like the chirping of the Eurasian treecreeper: tüt tüt tüt tüt tüt. In other words, I am bending her ear, ranting about the bliss of working alone, writing, designing and creating alone, telling her how I love this sport or that sport, how I – zirp zirp – adore object x and person y, and yada-yada-yada. Obviously, most of it is a lie. For some reason or other I feel obliged to re-design myself as the lonely wolf. Is she to know that I am a family guy at heart? Would you call that sexy? No way! And therefore let’s tread lightly. Right now we are designing various jobs to fit, including light-house keeper in Newfoundland, crane driver anywhere, janitor on an abandoned oil platform, off-shore Alaska, or, why not and after all, store manager of a Hofer branch in Porto Cervo. And this, at last, has Kristin roar with laughter.

Should I kiss her now, here, on the spot? No, I will not kiss Kristin at the Nascha’s.

My biochemical witches’ kitchen fuels me with a distinct feeling of deja-mangé.

And the feeling is a warm one. This very minute it was created by my transmittorial musketeers: serotonin, adrenalin and dopamin. As soon as these guys pull out their rapiers, you are will-less, powerless, helpless.

In order to escape this, I am now playing the ball deep into my own half and am very tame and nice and listen to Kristin telling the story of her life. Learn that she married in South Africa at the age of 22, that she went through a divorce at 28, and that she now studies something or other at the university, equipped with a pretty penny and a stylish flat in Vienna’s first district. She has a boyfriend working in advertising, who she would like to get rid off, and a black Angora cat. She has a leaning towards Jonathan Franzen, Honoré de Balzac and Michel H ­ ouellebecq.

Whatever they say: with a new woman in your life there is no bypassing these Do You Know This Do You Like That rites.

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I confront Kristin with my personal bible, Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, but this is a name she has never heard. Therefore I do not tell her that he is a fourtime nominee for the Nobel Prize, or that he is highly unlikely to ever receive it, since no one has any idea what he looks like, and the Stockholm decision-makers are not going to award a phantom, are they? Or that Elfriede Jelinek has translated the pop leviathan’s works, and as a result, phantom writer Thomas Pynchon called her personally. A fact worth a double page, at least for the average half-decent ­feature writer of the FAZ. Why threaten her with the more paranoid aspects of the literary world? Therefore I do not explain to her why Pynchon is pop culture’s Tolstoy, the epicist of the hippie generation. I do not explain to her about his heroes, who we all cannot help but instinctively like: the dreamers, the young dare-devils, the garage inventors, the underdogs, the maniacs. Nothing to gain from it here, this would work only for a freaky Angewandte student you chat up at the Kunsthalle. And even then, it won’t necessarily cajole her. Right now, I am much more interested in the following: Does Kristin have a tight grey Giorgio Armani suit, and, should the situation arise, would she be prepared to take it off for me?

Would you have guessed it, she does herself nurture a couple of neuroses. The fear of being obliged to say something wrong, the fear of fearing being obliged to say something wrong, the fear of not being able to say anything, the fear of fearing not being able to say anything, and so forth, yada-yada-yada. It is so important to talk to each other, says Kristin. She has her Eros focus exclusively on language.

Which gets me a lot closer to the pole position. Talking is one of my strong points.

OK, my dark eyes and long lashes do come in handy, too. The length of the latter probably dates back to that particular phase, the fourth week of swimming in amniotic fluid, when I was strongly convinced that I would be a girl. Then, as always, the thought formed the sword. Kristin confides that, when I chatted her up in the Méridien bar to bend her ear and ask her out for dinner, she only agreed because she regarded me as a sparring partner. And today, on date day, she actually wondered how to best humiliate me. To her, she says, this is a kind of sport: Let him invite you to the most expensive restaurant in town, lead him up to the appropriate flight height (10,000 metres, flying speed 870 km/h), and then let him crash, most elegantly of course. While doing this, keep looking in his eyes, enjoy it, baby. But somehow she failed to go through with this; on the contrary, she feels rather attracted to me at the moment. I hope she doesn’t tell me that she is fond of me. Would be the wrong message altogether.

By now we are sitting in a taxi, and Kristin is permanently on her iPhone and checks something or other with her psychiatrist Peter van Veersponnen, who I also

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know and who we all call Oxford, because he is so snidely clever. I am witness to a truly sexy Changing Clothes In A Taxi scene, Kristin takes her dress off now, and I see that she is wearing lingerie from Agent Provocateur plus stay-ups (a romantic woman after all); from her Stella McCartney handbag she takes a tight black Tom Ford combat suit, which she now slips over like a second skin. Later on I see the same suit worn by her and her friend Caroline, both are in physical ecstasy, and they look like two shiny satin 70s disco queens with undoubtedly better shoes, and they are surrounded by a group of fashion gays ferociously clapping their hands, and at least two of them are grabbing my ass. Were we at a Drink Until You Drop Down Dead place in Moscow, this kind of behavior would put them straight in a queue for medical treatment.

Later on I find myself lying on a Terence Conran couch, wrapped in a silk shawl

by Hermès complete with hunting scene. All this in a city penthouse styled by Martina Lang. Above me, a huge Andy Warhol portrait by Basquiat (I’ve seen this one before, in Andrea Ballerini’s loft in New York), below me a shiny cherrywood floor the colour of Beluga caviar. The Tom Ford combat suit is draped over three of a total of approximately ten Holly Hunt chairs. Kristin is sleeping on the Ali Rahimi carpet on which I would have loved to fuck her. A Sarough, 3 times 4 metres, 4 million knots per square metre, hand knoted somewhere in Northern Iran, approximately 130,000 euros, purchased at Rahimi for a special price. I think, the costs for cleaning will be substantial. A joghurt vinegar mixture could ­probably free the carpet from the 25 cl Antinori Solaia spot which Kristin has poured over it with almost scientific precision, just like a Mandelbrot set. The incident took place during my first, rather roguishly tricked French kiss attack. I reckon one of her emotional synapses bolted. In anticipation of a sexual overture, her noradrenaline level must have risen enormously. A completely normal reaction, but friend Solaia has prevented us from going any further. How can anyone be so daft as to bring down a sexy disco queen’s fully turned-on killer body with heavy wine from Tuscany? Only Nikolaus Schrefl is capable of this, or perhaps Matthias Angerer, or probably Alexander Rainer. REMINDER: Chase with champagne, never with red wine. Why keep drinking after two o‘clock in the morning anyway?

As far as the damaged carpet is concerned: Iran meets Tuscany, an ethnic-­culinaric cross-over action which will be difficult to dissect. However, this particular act of multi-cultural action painting lacks respect for the most honourable families ­Antinori (Florence), Riedel (Kufstein) and Rahimi (Vienna). OK, I will sit down and write all the necessary letters of apology. We are truly awfully sorry. A ­Leonard Cohen song is playing in the background. “Dance me to your beauty with a burn-

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ing violin”, or words to that effect, and in this phase of It Is Night And I Am Alone, the tranquility of the piece funnels my soul to the bottom of a melancholic well. Something is missing here. Love, or its like. This has me now take out my iPhone and compose the following and rather arbitrary variants of a text message: Hey B, where are you. Hey B, I miss you. Hey B, want to talk to you (too late for that of course). Hey B, you hurt me.

Let’s face it: None of this gets me anywhere. I stare at the dark contours of the Lobmeyr chandelier (obviously MUMOK-tuned) above and decide not to send any of these idiocies.

Heaven forbid. B like Bagdad, War In My Heart. Or, as Cummings would have said: Lovers alone wear sunlight. It is 3 am when I leave the penthouse flat; it is pitch-dark outside. Therefore I improve, in my opinion, a Goethe poem and enter it text-message style: Through rain, through snow, Through tempest go!

‘Mongst streaming caves, O’er misty waves, On, on! still on!

Peace, rest have flown!

Sooner through sadness I’d wish to be slain, Than all the gladnesss of life to sustain All the fond yearning that heart feels for heart, Only seems burning To make them both smart.

How shall I fly?

Forestwards high?

Vain were all strife!

Bright crown of life.

Turbulent bliss -Love, thou art this!

I send the thing to B and go home to fall into a kind of high-tech sleep. I dream of Eurofighters and reason that they should have opted for the F16; I wrestle with

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the fact that they had actually sunk as low as to fight over accessories (no, we don’t need atomic radar, far too expensive), that they have more or less bought the planes as pigs in a poke. High-tech meets stone-age. OK, that makes maintenance much cheaper, since they will all crash and burn in no time. What ho, chaps, we fly by sight ... The most expensive thing about the planes will be the anuities paid to the pilots’ widows. Good plan, well calculated. At some point during the rem phase, an enormous tsunami of images rolls towards me, bloated Catholicisms as in one of the nightmare pictures by Hieronymus Bosch, led by the devil in a Rolls-Royce Phantom, escorted by dominant angels dressed in Agent Provocateur. A dream play, as radical and hypnotic as a David Lynch movie, an essayistic horror trip. It is the law of disillusionment that triggers my awakening.

Nephew Yves from Paris wants to become an actor.

Wants to be like Belmondo in Breathless. With all due respect: This is so not going to happen.

There was never a time when I, you, or these kings did not exist.

Krishna At precisely 7 am, Yves, nephew from Paris, has docked at Vienna railway station.

He will stay with me for a month, and prepare himself for the qualifying examination of the Max Reinhardt Seminar. Each year, 8 out of 800 are accepted.

Hence I’m going to assign Yves a new name, just so that he knows what the odds are: 1%! Sounds cool, doesn’t it? Even cooler than 50 Cent. I see him waiting at the station, black military coat, hair dyed black, the body of an intellectual, a fag in his mouth and a black Borsalino on his head. Fat Boy Slim would fill his rapper’s shoes twice, and in his hand he is carrying a red rose. This, as he explains to me, is his incarnation of Edward Norton in Fight Club.

Much worse than that: he’s travelling with five bags! The lad’s operating on a plan, obviously. I address this immediately, making it clear to him that my only assumption as to the bags’ contents is that he brought tons of great old tomes, Shakespeare, Schiller and the rest. Well, it could hardly be clothes. Why would a nineteen-yearold whose next thirty days will consist of learning, learning and then more learning, be silly enough to bring more than three outfits from Paris to Vienna? 1% grants me a whimsical smile, then says laconically: “Dearest uncle of mine, don’t be daft. For

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the next couple of months, I’ll be doing copy outfits. Tomorrow I’ll be acting Belmondo in Breathless, and the day after tomorrow Brad Pitt in Fight Club, or Sean Penn in Mystic River, or Johnny Depp in Arizona Dream, whatever I feel like.” And all I think is, well, then how about Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange.

We load his stuff into my wondrous Lexus Hybrid, and on the way to the flat he has me listen to some recent stuff by The Chemical Brothers. 80 decibel at 7.30 in the morning. Was I born at the Flex or what? I switch to an old Duran Duran song – Wild Boys – and explain to Yves that hearing this makes me feel young and reckless again. The nephew’s response: “OK, uncle, if we were listening to Wild Boys in a topless Hummer H1 instead of a Lexus Hybrid, and if this were Bagdad instead of Vienna, we might call it cool.” To Yves, my version of cool is fit for a fun fair, nothing more. Could be the guy has fallen asleep over his ­Gameboy once too often – anyway, his problem, not mine. In a situation like this, what you do is press the eject button and change the sound. Yello, a song dating back to 1983, one I instantly connected to upon hearing it the first time, one of a couple that stayed with me all through life: Lost Again from the album You Gotta Say Yes To Another Excess.

Our breakfast has two components: NingXia Red Elixir by Young Living and a druid’s potion by Sonnentor. All blue-eyed gringos coming from abroad and demanding admission to my abode are objected to this. It is a given fact that the invention of NingXia Red Elixir by Young Living has the same significance for the wonderful city we are living in as Sigi Freud’s Theory of Depth Psychology or the shooting of The Third Man or the second Turkish siege. Capisci? For all I care, add Sacher-Torte to the list, although the one at Demel is better by far, believe me.

An illustration of the Sacher-Demel disparity could read as follows: Two interpretations of one plot. Take Sabrina: The 1995 version by Sidney Pollack with ­Harrison Ford and Julia Ormond is the Sacher-Torte. A nice try, as we all admit, and yet: wittier and much more charming, hence symbolising the Demel variant, was Billy Wilder’s movie from 1954 with Humphrey Bogart and Audrey Hepburn.

OK, espresso is also on offer. The Neapolitan kind: Harem, with very little fermentation. Obtainable at Grand Cru in Kaiserstrasse. I ask Yves whether he has already chosen a text to impress the ladies and gentlemen at the Reinhardt ­Seminar, and am rewarded by him replying, deadly serious and painfully carefree, that he is indeed planning to interpret Hamlet. Well, 1% (or shall I call him 1‰ after this?), listen carefully, your mother has not invested all her love and understand-

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ing into raising a son who fails to use his intelligence in this, the most important phase of his life so far. He explains to me that he has chosen Hamlet for precisely that reason; no one else will dare to perform the Danish prince, while he, 1%, plans to showcase the whole of Shakespeare’s artistic spectrum, and to do so in three languages: German, Arabic, English.

Seems the lad is even sillier than his mother or I had thought possible. However, if it comes to his mother, I am not at all sure: What I mean is that Ms Anoki von ARX, mezzosoprano, has put herself through a rust therapy once; for six months, she has scraped off rust from all kinds of old water pipes, then mixed it with her Evian. Looks to me as if she had been planning to pump up an already iron will by means of biochemistry.

I try to explain that he should keep his hands off the classics; fact is, he is everything but a classic type. Try to persuade him to do something a little more in line with his character. AVANT-GARDE. No one has ever tried to recite the Parkemed 500 package insert for a drama school entrance exam, at least not as far as I know.

And in a Pitztal dialect. You could also put an instruction manual for a Gorenje washing machine into a dramatic context, or dramatize the Caritas supply logistics for the Sudan. But no Hamlet, please.

All this reasoning leaves us exhausted, and we start playing our own version of Who Is The Greatest, a game which takes about two hours and features, among others, the following essential passages: “The other day I gave an IWC Aquatimer to my driver. And, just for the sake of variety, a Rolex Oysterdate as well.”

“My cleaning lady wears a Patek Philippe for 125,000 euros. A present from me.

After all, she earns a comfortable 150 euros an hour. She is a Thurn und Taxis.”

“Actually, we are talking about my cleaning lady’s driver. I recently bought him a Lexus Hybrid, plus four black suits by Tom Ford, so that he can chauffeur her around in style.”

“My cleaning lady is from Prague and a top-model, …ova something or other, and I pay her 200 euros an hour. I have also transferred her service flat to Cannes.

Whenever I need her, I have her flown in with one of my four executive jets.”

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“I have given mine a 10 per cent share in my business. Samsung Electronics, if this means anything to you. I wouldn’t know what to do with all the money anyway.

And she has her own cleaning lady. Do you know Nicole Kidman? The very same.”

“Well, if you really need a cleaning lady, she’s the best. Actually, I don’t need one at all. I lead a one-way life. I move into a villa, and if it starts getting dirty, I buy the next. Last year I moved thirty-six times. It’s a lot of fun.”

“My cleaning lady’s driver has his own butler. And this butler has a shoe-polisher who is Supervisory Board Chairman at Apple.”

And yada-yada-yada … We consider it a lot of fun, this foraging through the scrapyard of the latest/late/and bygone status symbols. Others might be put off by it; but it had to be included, if only for the sake of authenticity: I mean, the generations to come have a right to know what made our lot tick.

After that I get out my iPhone and send a text message to Thomas Schreiner. I need a table for three at his gourmet tavern in the 19th district later on. The place is still an absolute insider tip and I’d like it to stay that way, so I have deliberately given you a wrong name and district, none of the information is correct, all of it is totally wrong, a complete lie, a total fake, the perfect red herring! Hehe, hoho. I am going to take two friends with me, Milan-based Giovanni Muti and Friedensreich von Zaunrieden. The latter is a manic aristocrat from Berlin with a really impressive IQ. A couple of years ago we met at a film premier in Hamburg, where we drank ourselves into oblivion with Tanqueray Ten and later, at the Cut, exchanged our shoes.

Ever since this first memorable encounter, our Syndicate Shoe Size 43 (­listed in every commercial register) has been our favourite running gag. We meet once a year in a metropolis of choice and storm the best vodka bars to talk about films, soccer, music and all the really bad girls; these idiosyncratic city turns are then inevitably brought to a grand conclusion by another issue of the ESC (European Shoe Chance), presented by Syndicate Shoe Size 43. We have already done Berlin, Paris, Milan and London, this year’s venue is Vienna. Last year, at the Annabelles in London, Giovanni had the guts to turn up in a pair of Nike Streets, while Graf Friedensreich and I had brought a decent Oxford Half-Brogue by Alden and a well-manufactured Norweger by Ludwig Reiter into the equation. I was the one to end up with Giovanni’s Nikes, and you can be sure that I didn’t take that lightly. From an FM guy (FuckMilan) I would at least have expected a Loafer or a Plain Derby from the reputable houses of Prada or Fratelli Rosetti. As a consequence, I will showcase a black patent leather half-boot (Vernis) by Bottega Veneta tonight: www.giovanni-

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will-be-staggered.com. And, ladies, one thing I can tell you: for men, shoes also matter. Well, who would want to put an ingenious conglomerate of 19 muscles, 26 bones and 107 ligaments into an inadequate cage, leather or not?

I try to call Nadeschda Plajova. Nadeschda belongs to the Moscow upperclass, works for the UN in Vienna and is a sweet, long-legged Russian variety of a ­Bergdorf Blonde; she owns all Vuitton bags Marc Jacobs has ever designed and would be totally incapable of existing in a Manolo-free zone. Chances are, she’s still angry with me; last time we met, I dragged her to MuseumsQuartier, forcing her to accompany me in watching the Christine Gaigg piece Second Nature – über Tiere, text by Elfriede Jelinek. The play left us slightly overwhelmed and had us sprint to the bar at Fabios, where we tried to channel Elfriede’s central message with the help of a bottle Tignanello: Desperation is the biggest source for environmental pollution, and love is a sewage plant. Anyway, I would like to establish a connection between her and Katharina of St. Petersburg. In Ufa, Nadeschda recently attended a mammoth anniversary gala event of some sort or other, featuring Putin plus entourage, where she finally met Roman Abramovich – she had already spotted him twice at the Lanser Hof: “Oh God, picture this, I finally met Roman ­Abramovich.” At the time, I immediately sent this euphoric outcry to Franzi F­ ellner, composer and mandolin player, please turn this into a ballad, we audition for next year‘s Eurovision Song Contest. The Russians, for once, will surely love it. Actually, we have tried this before with a sentence courtesy of Sabine Heinemann, “Oh God, I have met Prince Albert of Monaco”, but nothing ever came of it. ­Similar to our plans to release Silent Night, Holy Night in Arabic, with Arabic instruments and a release party in Bagdad or Beirut or Kuwait, hosted by the Al-Sabah clan. Obviously, I am lacking whatever it is you need for successful music productions, perhaps I shouldn‘t have, back then, quit my recorder lessons after only three months.

Not bad, I think to myself, to be moving in Abramovich’s trail. Kevin Delane told me that he had once met Abramovich in New York, and that Abramovich had invited him onto the Pelorus in Nice. A 127 metre yacht produced by Lürssen.

German yachts are extremely hot at the moment, Paul Ellen’s is also by Lürssen.

Abramovich’s second yacht is most likely a Van Lent from the Netherlands. The market is booming, little doubt about that. These days, a yacht setting is the thing to go for. The whole thing was originally invented by Aristotle Onassis. Mark my words: jet-setting is over, the only people who still do it are paparazzi and single women with a Gala subscription.

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Also very fashionable at the moment: a war setting. The motto’s “If you’ve not been there you shouldn’t be talking”, and one of its most dedicated followers is Kevin Delane. He books his holidays in well-known areas of conflict only, for instance in Columbia. The man has balls. The extended version would then be a holiday trip to Iraq, and to fly there with one of those terrific airlines featured on the EU black list. To be on a black list, well, how chique is that? What is more, the airline names are all truly stylish, with a hint of Indiana Jones Reborn and all that, even if they somehow foreshadow an early death, complete with appropriate geographic setting; a real postcolonial write-off. Phoenix Aviation in Kyrgyzstan or Air Boyoma from the Democratic Republic of Kongo are my special favourites, with Ariana Afghan Airlines and Airolift Co Ltd from Sierra Leone coming in as close seconds. Should I ever manage to reach absolute wisdom, or whatever it is truly wise men ramble about, then, dear friends, I will check in with Ecuato Guineana de Aviación, Equatorial Guinea, and cruise the globe.

Until then: Fly Niki.

Friedensreich von Zaunrieden is the kind of man fit to rewrite Debrett’s Manners; he knows literally everything and can do even more. A kind of bogey man for Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, a true Mister Made-to-Measure. We meet at the stylish Freyung4. Friedensreich appears in his typical London’s Tailors Are The Best style and tells me that he just had a quarrel with the taxi driver on his way from the airport to the hotel: the guy had had the nerve to light an incense stick.

And all this in a Skoda taxi, and accompanied by the music of Janis Joplin, Me And Bobby McGee, and a boot lacking space for von Zaunrieden’s Louis Vuitton bag, since it had already been crammed with a complete surf equipment including two lurid green body boards, two basketballs and a couple of bongos from Africa, plus enough jasmin tea to supply a small town in China. Friedensreich reacted by pouring at least two centilitres of Loewe Solo from his Alessi 18 carat white gold miniature perfume flacon over his seat and chanting provocatively, “Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz …” The taxi driver was by no means amused and about to throw him out of the car, but Friedensreich then started to talk of the good old days and himself as a Woodstock veteran, the latter being a lie, of course.

At the end, they had grown very fond of each other, and the taxi driver was ­rewarded with a 20 euro tip and the prospect of a telephone conversation between ­Friedensreich and the owner of the taxi company: “Well, if you have to have a ­hippie among your drivers, then the least you can do is to equip him with an old ­Mercedes estate, or has no one ever told you what a decent CI is …”

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A first glance at Friedensreich’s shoes leaves me in total ignorance. Despite a prior nocturnal surf session in search for the latest trends in shoe manufacturing and despite artful interrogation. With Giovanni Muti, the case is different. He is sporting another high-tech Nike, accompanied by a black Etro suit and a white shirt by Dolce & Gabbana. To me I think, OK, this has become an idee fixe, Giovanni is following his sneakers program no matter the casualties. Him saying, while looking at my own shoes, “I really like Bottega Veneta”, has truly annoyed me. Giovanni wants to know whether I want to fly with him to Milan tomorrow, then to Rome and a Roberto Cavalli party with Erin Wasson and Jessica Stam. Well, I will think about it. We order three cocktails made with Tanqueray Gin and I take small revenge on Giovanni by telling the Why Do Italians Have Such Red Eyes After Orgasm/ Because Of The Pepper Spray joke; we then check a Mercedes taxi to go to ­Schreiner’s. On arriving there, we are forced to go through the Don’t Argue You Simply Have To Have A Welcome Schnapps routine, and Giovanni says, thanks to God, there is not a single item of designer furniture to be seen, and that this kind of traditional interior reminds him of the good old osterias in the Bera district of Milan. So I explain to him that it is OK for him to feel like that, but that this place lives from the software rather than the hardware, and therefore it doesn’t make the slightest difference whether we are talking traditional or Philippe Starck.

Which serves as a kick-off for our annual hunt in the metaphor park known to others as film history. Giovanni explains to me that by no means does he see it my way, since if, for example, Gaultier had done the design for The Untouchables, and not Armani, Kevin Costner would have made his mark as a really flashy drag queen, and the film would thus have conveyed a completely different atmosphere, even if the Brian de Palma script had been left untouched. And yes, by all means, any fictitious change in this restaurant’s interior would have similar effects. Had it been styled by Philippe Starck, for example, he would never dream of ordering roast calf ’s liver, but rather something from the realms of molecular cooking, à la Ferran Adrià Acosta at El Bulli.

I think, interesting idea, and I ponder on the possible results of David Fincher directing Lord Of The Rings. The film would turn out very somber, with the hobbits being depressed wrecks and Gandalf a mere illusion. David Lynch would have things become even gloomier; at the end the fellows would come upon themselves in the Shire, and no one would ever get the meaning. And in Kubrick’s case, the hobbits’ cave would consist of almost rectangular dykes, in order to fit into the 4:3 format. Tarantino would have “fuck” as every third word and put Frodo in a black frock coat by Roberto Cavalli. In any case, you would never learn what the

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ring is actually good for. And, for that matter, so I think to myself, what are all these thoughts for? Although the El Bulli Philippe Starck axis is not a bad one.

Apart from the sad fact that you can easily get an appointment with Philippe Starck at any time, but never ever a table at El Bulli. I must know – when it was still open, I kept trying. For almost two years, I tried to make reservations under the names of Robert de Niro, Catherine Deneuve and Pedro Almodóvar. No way. In some years time, when I am grown up (as well as rich and famous), I will simply buy a place treating me like that and sack the reservation people, and I will make no bones about it. This is a real nowhere & never thing. See, I was in Berkshire at the Fat Duck with an equally fat bill, or at Michel and Sebastien Bras’ restaurant in Laguiole, at Fulvio Pierangelini’s legendary Gambero Rosso down in San Vincenzo, and also in Joel Robuchon’s damned Paris Atelier, but nowhere never did they not let me in, nowhere never did they not accept my booking (under the name of Robert de Niro), and nowhere never on this God forsaken Route de Gourmet was I not perfectly served. Thinking about it I still get hopping mad! I might as well be honest with you: I feel excluded.

“Well, when it comes to El Bulli”, I chip in, “we would be dealing with calf ’s liver caviar in a nitrogen trauma on an over-designed pig tongue lolly.”

Graf Zaunrieden listened to Giovanni’s Armani/Gaultier comparisons as to a weather forecast on car radio. “My dear, Jean Paul is a ponce, no man would put on such drag voluntarily, lest of all Kevin Costner.”

Giovanni seems to feel personally attacked, and he starts to fray: “Gaultier is not a ponce, he is gay, OK. I mean, why is it that the gays rule the lifestyle and fashion biz? Have you ever thought about that, you thickhead of a hetero? Do you want to know why? Because there is no friction, do you understand that, my aristocratic friend? Friction comes at a cost, it kills the energy, first of all the professional one; and the sad fact is, between hetero men and women it always takes precedence.”

“This is a mere question of perspective. We all perceive things in a pre-processed, virtual way, we perceive myths, stereotypes, genres, cliches.”

“Yes, Mister I Attended A Good School In Berlin And Have Not Only Read But Also Understood James Joyce’s Ulysses (has anyone really, is anyone out there?), of course this is a question of perspective; that’s the very reason I refuse to look at this restaurant from the rustic, Florentine/Philippe Starck perspective, nor will I look at the El Bulli with the eyes of a Lower-Andalusian pig farmer.”

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The competition of Who Has The Better Metaphors lasts all through the full course dinner, which consists of Kaspressknödelsuppe, roast calf ’s liver, baked apple slices, three bottles of Sauvignon Blanc by Tement, and an aweful lot of the notorious Meaning Of Life schnapps. In addition, Giovanni and Friedensreich set out to single-handedly redefine the whole Nouvelle Vague by killing the Godard factor, establish a connection between the creative roots of Yohji Yamamoto, Issey Miyake and Matsuda and the arithmetic of the Japanese attacks on Pearl Harbor, keep interchanging various body parts of Paris Hilton, Angelina Jolie and Charlize Theron until they have turned the three ladies into a Frankenstein version of Take That, and raze Berlin to the ground, only to rebuild it according to their own – far superior – vision. Well, should this architectural project ever be realized, even Jean Nouvel would see his synapses collapse. I have to take a short time-out, because B, like Be Aware, has spontaneously triggered a retro-active emotion (due to, I guess, an enormous amount of calf ’s liver and thus an overdose of iron), an emotion which drags me deep down, into a kind of secret crypto-analytical center, where I find myself confronted with an unbelievably vast number of uncracked codes. This stubborn 30 year-old, for example, who is somehow connected to a knock-out on a school bench and serious, if unrequited love. Strange thought processes going on here.

Uncompromising interpretations from the subconscious, probably the product of over-exposure to mass media. This emotional information overload truly demands a major interpretation and analysis effort, or so I think. I will call psychiatrist Georg Pakesch. Or perhaps I should simply cancel my FAZ subscription. Actually I do not care a bit about all that, and therefore I am now entering a kitschy Rilke poem into my phone and send it to Kristin, who I already miss physically and who I will meet at the weekend, at DO & CO Haas Haus. Perhaps I should send her a couple of Agent Provocateur vouchers in advance, chocolate by Michel Cluizel, and a book by Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49 for example.

We are now quickly approaching the shoe exchange phase, and consider extending the challenge to comprise our watches. Friedensreich’s hand is ornamented with a Bulgari limited edition (Bulgari-Bulgari Moon Phases, white gold, saphire glass and reptile leather wristband), I estimate a cool 15,000 euro minimum. I am wearing a limited edition from Walter Wolf, a present from Freddy Riedel, who also produced the series in cooperation with Jacques Lemans.

The result of a success story in which I played a pivotal part – I was the one who introduced Walter Wolf to Freddy Riedel at a Hanno Soravia party. A couple of months later, Walter Wolf, a friend of Bernie Ecclestone, had Freddy in

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his helicopter and took him from Salzburg to St. Veit an der Glan; this is where the Freddy Bernie We P ­ roduce The First Formula 1 Watch project reached signature stage. The rest is company history.

Giovanni is mightily impressed by this anecdote. He is wearing a stainless steel Blackbird by Breitling, and since he is really proud of it, and by now has had four rounds of schnapps, he reacts rather fiercely to Friedensreich’s question: “Is it real or fake?”

“What exactly are you trying to implicate? That if you had a Breitling, it would be the real thing, but if I have a Breitling, it can’t be a Breitling, but comes courtesy of Mister Ti Pau Whatever, champion faker from Korea? And are you suggesting that I bought it in one of those fucked-up dens in the Taipei harbour, for a couple of peanuts? Is this what you are trying to say, Friedensreich von I Am The Real Thing?”

“Come on, don’t freak out, it was just a joke.”

But Giovanni’s Italian macho honour is hurt, and by now he is shouting right into von Zaunrieden‘s not too aristocratic face.

“Weren’t you the one telling us that for twelve years, you’ve had a crush on Cindy Crawford? Just because she had dinner with you, once. If this is at all true.

Tailor-made suit from London, everything you wear is limited, the real thing.

Have you ever had the courage to visit Cindy in New York, to punch Rande Gerber’s chin and to announce that it was your turn now? No, you haven’t. I tell you what you did instead: You chatted up every fucking Cindy copy available in Hamburg at the time. Remember the reduced variant, 168 centimetres, but complete with beauty spot and Cindy’s lips? So don’t you dare to tell me about real and fake.”

By now, Friedensreich von Zaunrieden has started roaring with laughter, and ­Giovanni and I cannot help but join him, and then Zaunrieden can’t resist, he has to treat us to one of the better known Charlie Chaplin stories: “Would it mess up your theory that Chaplin once came in as a mere third at a Charlie Chaplin look-a-like competition in Monte Carlo? And with regard to C ­ indy: I have long fully embraced the principle of the abstract universal lover.”

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“And could you please define the principle of the abstract universal lover?”, I demand enlightenment.

“It is a Buddhist combat strategy, making you resistant to outer appearances. Following the mantra Everything Is Part Of Everything And Everything Contains Everything, I can now project Cindy’s looks on every given face.”

“Do you use a two-way projector to do that? Can you also project the beauty spot, or is this another process? Or do you take a Lancôme khol pencil wherever you go, in order to apply missing beauty spots on site?”

“No, I slap on the beauty spot via iris. I only have to place a brown speck of dust onto my contact lens, and there we go.”

This goes on and becomes more weird by the minute, since von Zaunrieden tries to convince us that even restaurant dog Otto comprises a part of Cindy Crawford (well, this would at least require a sex change), while I and Kristin have, in the meantime, entered the stage of delirious text messaging, in our case of the Baby I Miss You So Much Right Now kind. Actually, something the rules for our men’s night categorically object to: strictly no women is the order, but who cares? Anyway, these mutual declarations of desire come to an abrupt halt when Giovanni eggs us on to another bar – for a night cap, he says, and to finally exchange our shoes. After all, that’s what brought them in the first place.

I suggest the Hammond Bar in Vienna’s Hipsterville – however, when we reach the place, the deed is done, the shoes have been exchanged already. What‘s more, we managed an extended version, thanks to Friedensreich, who insisted on locating his hippie taxi driver via radio research, just to ask him whether we could do the annual ESC (European Shoe Chance) gala now, at midnight, in his Skoda.

This is what we did, and of course we included the taxi driver (who happened to have size 43 as well), and this is the reason why I am now standing at the bar of the Hammond feeling slightly freaky in my newly acquired Birkenstock sandals.

This time, Friedensreich ended up with Giovanni’s Nikes, and it seems he shares my feelings. I’ll spare you the rest. By the way: Friedensreich’s shoes, which are now going to spend the rest of their earthly live in an incense-infested Skoda, were

by Gucci. He bought them as an admirer of a certain Gucci perfume clip directed

by David Lynch. I think to myself, the clip is from 2005, water under the bridge like David Lynch himself, but there you go: When it comes to weird film directors, they guys have not yet made it to South Korea.

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In the meantime, at the Hammond Bar, the three of us have entered upon a r­ eally hot flirt with an extremely charming, rather exotic lady named Giny. An apparition also known as Tanqueray Ten, who enchants us with her many different outfits. The owner of this place, padrone Gottfried Pertot, sees Tanqueray Ten play a decisive part in every drink, just as Ronaldo did at Real Madrid: phenomenal, meticulous, sensitive. He is the star, yet leaves room to others; his brilliance rubs off to even the most inconspicuous member of the team. And, ladies and gentlemen, transferred to the Hammond this can only mean their gin and tonic: a true classic served to perfection.

Genghis Khan has infiltrated Styria with a Trojan, no doubt. And it is called to action now …

No man is an island.

John Donne, Meditation XVII Whatever else today may be, it is also a day for John Harris. Thomas Birnbaumer is my trainer, and in order to prepare myself for our encounter I am studying the bible written by my friend Kevin Delane. Kevin Delane’s book Zen, Om ­Shanti And The Art of Mediating A Pub Brawl lies next to me in bed. He has signed it with “FND” (Friends Never Die). Kevin is a mixture of Laotse carrying a handgun, Bruce Lee herding sheep and the Dalai Lama in an Alexander McQueen suit or, perhaps, a bathrobe by Tom Ford. The message he heralds to his followers – “Be hot or cold, the luke warm I spit out”– is either Iggy Pop or Jesus of Nazareth.

Perhaps it was a coproduction, the decision is up to you. His face is a physiognomic jigsaw assembled from various sources. The forehead shows a notable influence of Dolph Lundgren and Arnold Schwarzenegger (although there are only micro elements of the latter), while from the middle of the cheeks downwards, there is nothing but Ken, Barbie’s life-mate. Mind you, not the common, rather arbitrary version, but the slightly nobler Russian one. I am positive that I have seen Kevin’s face scurry over the big screen as part of Sergej Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin. This would have been in 1925, approximately. But then I had already come across him in Dostoevsky’s Idiot. Could be, we are dealing with a H ­ ighlander here, or, as they would say over there in the east, with a Sibirian. Therefore Kevin’s true origins are not to be found in the Midwest of the good old US of A, but deep down in the wide forests surrounding Irkutsk. Well, he does put away a lot of vodka – it all fits together perfectly.

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In Kevin Delane’s opinion, even a 49 year old like me has every fucking right to go and optimize his inner and outer navigation skills up to 75 percent. Which means that, provided I consume at least 75 percent of my prescribed training units, I have the chance to one day embrace an almost Stalinistic philosophy of life: to die upright rather than to live on my knees. Hence the emotional realisation of the M. erector spinae and other esoteric muscle groups as today’s first commandment.

Kevin’s real goal in life is to gain world supremacy. Well, so is mine. For years I had suffered because I had been carrying this horrible program with me. Until, in one of my weakest moments, a friend enlightened me: had I ever taken a closer look at my mother? What, for heaven’s sake, had my mother got to do with it?

Then it dawned on me. Mum does have something of the Mongolian about her, although her family tree is ample proof that for centuries her clan hasn’t left their native Styrian soil. And here comes my theory: Genghis Khan was one of the world’s greatest rulers, and we all know that his realm included parts of what is now eastern and southern Austria. If the mighty Khan was actually here, he must have installed some Trojan, and my mother is one of the many carriers of his world supremacy gen. No wonder I am condemned to run around with this genetically transmitted and dangerously well-defined program. Couldn’t be any more logical.

My dear friends, the world is ours.

Anyway, it’s good to break into the day with grand thoughts like these. Make your day and make your way, baby. I slip into a cosy bathrobe, the very one described a few lines above, when it was worn by the Dalai Lama, and enter the bathroom, where I blow a kiss in the direction of my mirror image and hail to myself with three instances of my current mantra, which I use regularly to ban any potential feeling of inferiority : “Klaus von Oesterreich, you are the greatest.” No better way than this to shake off the night, and to make yourself aware of the fact that you are not only the journey, but also the reward. No matter for who or what. I then inhale approximately 80 pills, mostly Schuessler Salts; I tune my biochemistry with 20 units of Magnesium phosphoricum – potence six, 15 Natrium sulfuricum, 15 Natrium phosphoricum, 15 Potassium phosphoricum and 15 Calcium phosphoricum. All this on top of an empty stomach, since Dr. Schuessler demands it that way. After that, 1,000 milligrams vitamin C by a true champion of survival, company from the Burgenland called Merimed, and two Omega3forte capsules

by Apomedica. However, why I do these things I do not have the slightest – why would I need to add something from an external source, is it to fill an inner hole?

Is this above emptiness or abundance? My dears, I really don’t know.

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Later in the kitchen I come across nephew Yves, who has had a really long night working the caterpillar, or, less cryptically, who tried his luck with a model from Prague. This she hadn’t minded at all, but in the end it turned out that she considered him too young for her. Too young for a serious relationship and too young for Take Him Home And Exploit Him Sexually, too young for Have A Last Drink and Snog Him Outside On The Street, and also too young for Kiss Him Goodnight Using Your Tongue Once. Indeed, what a shame.

She did offer to next time bring her younger sister from Prague, though. “She was very intelligent, with a lot of impact and a real hard body”, Yves says. Alas, a girl to fall in love with. And thus Yves, in the end, appreciated her rejection, all the more so since it was obviously due to some sort of protective mechanism on her side; because to love means to get hurt, says Yves, and he is still suffering from the blizzardy freeze which his ex-girl friend had brought into his life. After a snow storm there should be soft breezes, says Yves, or perhaps an invigorating desert wind, a sirocco perhaps. I advise him to call VW in Wolfsburg, Germany, maybe the guys can help.

Later Thomas Birnbaumer explains to me that things must definitely change, at least when it comes to my training routine. According to him, it is of next to no significance whether I, immaculately dressed in my stylish black Peak Performance gear, keep coming to John Harris, when all I do is lift a variety of chrome discs or run after the blue physio ball as if it were all I could ever hope to achieve. Today, we will move on to the next level, which is improvised training. And Thomas, I fondly call him Don Tomaso, presents me with my own, tailor-made program.

One that channels Plato’s understanding of gymnastics – simple is better – as well as Kevin Delane’s slogan Enlightenment is sexy, one that adjusts all its causes and effects to those secret mechanisms which are forever stored in my sub-consciousness and are hardly ever addressed by all those various middle-of-the-road attempts championed by slightly pathetic fraternities like Team Fat Burning On The Treadmill or Association 8pm 140 Pulse On The Bicycle Trainer. According to him, we will very soon have done with all the secure meditation within calm and peaceful Feng Shui environments; in fact, the process of Finding My Inner Self will be transferred to the emergency area right next to the heavy traffic lane of A2 motorway during rush hour, or to a highly frequented children’s playground. Try to relax while 80 miniature pests use 12 different pitches, at decibels unknown to science, to shoot your aggression levels right into the hazard zone. There is little sense in the quest for peace in peace.

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Naturally, this inspired approach to fitness has me produce my own ideas, which I instantly present to Don Tomaso, complemented by a couple of random thoughts best summarized under the title Chronicle of A Flight Foretold. You know what, I say to Thomas, I am positive that to flee means to be free. I could, for a start, attend the annual Hells Angels meeting at a Harley Davidson Bar wearing a Lacoste shirt and driving a Vespa, and treat all attending ladies to perfume samples by Hermès. Or confront a couple of pimps at our local red light district with the question whether they have, at least partly, understood the Principle of the Abstract Universal Machine. Or claim loudly in the middle of a tavern frequented by that interesting type of male, the hard man: “I could knock you out with my left while my right is knitting a sweater.” After this, you would have no choice but to turn the streets into le parcours: The city as your fitness center – you run, you survive.

Thomas is all eager and says that, should I survive his survival training, you could maroon me naked in the Brazilian jungle, and two days later I would still be checking in at The Pierre in New York with a Black Amex and flanked by Angelina Jolie and Amy Adams. This frightens me a little; now, I can feel the pressure coming.

This stress I am now attempting to reduce: at John Harris, 5th district of Vienna.

Here, in the most beautiful of all the beautiful pools provided by Middle European fitness centers, I studiously perform my 40 lengths of breaststroke. Lap pool, 22 degrees, long black Arena swimming trunks à la Markus Rogan and a black latex cap by Speedo, charisma outfit You Are A Dolphin and Who The Hell Was Johnny Weissmueller. Enough, what else do you want to know? This is awesome!

And since Thomas is trying to whisk the treadmill out of my life, I now step on it all the more eagerly, on my fat-burning conveyor belt, complete with music from the ipod academy, in this case Demis Roussos, My Friend The Wind. Probably, or de facto, an act of defiance. In this category I am a world champion, the first training units I performed on my own, with only my mother present, later on I brought the art to perfection, with several female friends as training partners.

I leave to meet Matthias Angerer, one of my dearest friends, at Demel; later we will visit Amicis, the coolest multi-brand store this city has to offer, although it would feel equally at home in any other Western capital. Alas, the facts are as follows, Matthias and I are about to write a screen-play, and the first step in the process is: looking swell. Once a year we walk our inner fashionista, as we call it, and we buy a real cool piece each; although afterwards we do not celebrate by drink-

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ing prosecco (if bubbly was the only choice, we would have to insist on Gosset champagne), but rather by downing a cold Pils courtesy of the honourable company Murauer or, if available, Jever. And: our female side might allow us to splash out together, but we would still go to the gents alone.

During an average of these shopping sprees, we not only give birth to, but also develop in detail 50 or 60 really good ideas. I would go as far as to say that a ­single one of these affairs equals the annual creative output of an average-sized European advertising agency. The only problem: on the next day there is forgiving as well as forgetting. We have tried to minimize the damage by taking notes, but they turned out to be unreadable, we have taped these surreal moments of brilliance, yet the resulting babble was equally beyond comprehension, even friends who are trained linguists failed to establish a rational pattern, let alone a creative one. For years now, this has been behaviourism in practice. As is visiting Demel coffeehouse. You feel pampered there, not hassled, and all this while being addressed in the third person. You know yourself to be entrusted to the most professional care, yet without feeling at somebody’s mercy. Wünschen mehr darüber zu erfahren, dann gehen bitte zum Demel … This is by no means my invention, but that of good old Friedrich Torberg (Aunt Jolesch). I would go even further and claim that at Demel, the feeling of being pampered is actually three-dimensional. Right now, the combination of hot chocolate and cream slices in a geomantically undisturbed zone is poor luxury. What is more, we are actually moving on to the health trail. Blood group diet, the theory that a central European organism gets more vitamin C from a green pepper than a lemon, whereas a Mediterranean organism will clearly benefit more from the lemon. I lecture Matthias about Michel Montignac’s method, he preaches to me about the five elements, and so on and so forth.

Matthias wants to buy some jewellery for a wonderful creature, as he puts it, for one in which he intends to invest so much more energy in the future, much more than is needed in an attempt to pull her. I say, for a mere one night stand, no jewellery is required, all it takes is a weekend at Reiters Supreme. But Matthias comes across all serious, and so I now call Maximilian Semler of Bomm & Semler, asking him to advise my friend as much as he can. Where love is concerned, there is actually not much of a choice: It has to be 18 carat gold, and it has to be diamonds.

At Amicis, we are confronted with a fundamental problem; the problem of choosing the right suit and/or fabric. Tom Ford or Yves Saint Laurent it has to be.

Matthias wants to know whether the fabrics for these magnificent designer suits

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come from Loro Piana or Ermenegildo Zegna. And he claims that the place reminds him of a petting zoo, and his favourite poison is neither beer nor vodka but Loro Piana Vicuna, one of the most expensive and exclusive fabrics ever. It is named after the animal with the same name; its exclusive habitat is the Andes, at least 4,000 metres above sea level. Shearing is limited to every other year, and the result is a mere 120 grams of fine wool per beast.

“Perhaps we are dealing with a yeti here, not an animal”, says I. In a sanctuary like this, jokes of that kind meet with very little understanding, and I decide to ­withdraw; in the Tom Ford section I come across a perfect, dark grey and highly complex cloth. To celebrate, Matthias and I now start to chant our very own version of a Debrett’s Gangsta Rap: Look at your creases they’re vertical / Ain’t no look for a criminal Your jacket’s too tight man / won’t buy you into no gang then and with them running down your front / you will never get what you want too wide for a fight / eternity gets out of sight no brown after six / I know them tricks and only dark socks / this is what rocks blondes in suspenders / many happy surrenders never button them all when you go out they will only come off, make you look the lout you think Terry cloth is a bliss / can’t get any more wrong than this what a joke, you got no knack, look like a crack that’s so not cool / come on, jump into the pool you in your leather tie / won’t talk to you, that’s no lie and all your mirror shades / well it’s your life that fades makes you an outcast in every society you will never get page 1 coverage in Variety and don’t you approach me with a Mickey Mouse shirt or a Clever & Smart, well I’ll make you hurt this comes straight from good old Zarathustra I set you on fire, you will burn like a lustre I am Mister No-Go and Sir Don’t from No-No people know me from here to the darkest So-ho And since we have become so utterly masculine during the complex Tom Ford situation at Amicis, I now call my friend, actress Tatjana Alexander, Her Of The Female Power, and ask her whether she would like to join us at The Guesthouse

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for some green tea. The fact that she agrees leads to the fact that I, with high probability, will get my chance to glance at a Jimmy Choo today. A necessary aesthe­tic contribution to a balanced diet, just as important as your daily dosage of coffee or the single spoon of breakfast honey in a remote Alpine hut. When Tatjana ­Alexander, a red-haired and genetically improved version of Bridget Fonda, arrives, she is sporting a red-carpet boot by Jimmy Choo; not because she likes to dress up to the nines during daytime, but because she just left a rehearsal at which she convinced the director that, in order to channel the OTT pop star she is supposed to act, she needed to carry her stage outfit through Vienna for a couple of days. ­Tatjana is an actress, she will convince you of anything. And so she is now wrapped in an Alexander McQueen creation which really makes her look like the advanced edition of any Hollywood goddess. What is more, she is exceptionally well-read, and equally well-spoken. My guess is that her mother provided her with Immanuel Kant or Nietzsche where others would have had a go at Winnie the Pooh. For the life of me, I cannot think of any other explanation.

It is a little later and we are sitting at Vienna’s most popular after-shopping bar at Meinl am Graben, and Sonja Schatz is also there, and she tells me that she spent the whole day shopping with Katharina. According to Sonja, their path took them all through the city as well as to both ends of the proverbial rainbow, and in both cases, Katharina’s Black Amex functioned as their door-opener. A VIP ticket for the colour dynamics of the luxury industry price policy. Naturally, the journey began at Amicis, with a burgundy-coloured mega-understater bag by Bottega Veneta, plus matching wallet, needless to say, and evening gowns by Alexander McQueen and Stella McCartney, and ended in an hysterical shoe orgy featuring vintage high heels by Jimmy Choo, a pair by Guiseppe Zanotti that requires a gun license, and a couple of Sergio Rossi and Chloé designs which elude all further definitions. And since the twelve pairs of high heels which got booked to the Black Amex will by no means suffice to permanently define Katharina’s Head To Toe Pre-eminence within St. Petersburg society, they then had to fight their way round the corner and to the Vivienne Westwood shop where three more haute couture pieces changed hands. Not to mention the visit paid to Agent Provocateur next door. A fatal attraction. A woman like Katharina in lingerie by Agent Provocateur, doesn’t this cry out for safety belts, firewalls, extended hazard distances? I demand this as an EU citizen, a corresponding article must be incorporated into the EU constitutional rights, section Men’s Protection From Advanced Drugs. Because sooner or later you become addicted to refinements like these, a deplorable ­junkie, will-less and impoverished.

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Penthouse, dinner for two. Kristin has invited me to her place. Originally it should have been the DO & CO Haas Haus, and I had already been waiting an hour at the bar, when she finally sent a message: “Changed schedule, come to my place, let’s eat here.“ I have given the table back to Albrecht Clary, after all I had demanded, and been granted, the best, and the best is the desire of many. Turned out to be no problem. Now I stroll across the Graben, it is only a couple of minutes, and what comes then is really weird, and I feel like Michael Douglas in The Game by David Fincher: a guinea pig of sorts. Kristin welcomes me with a glass of Dom Gosset Rose, she is wearing the perfect robe in midnight blue by Tom Ford, her hair is combed back to form a tight knot, complete with sparkling combs.

“Two things: First, no sex tonight, and no canoodling, this is not what the evening is about, baby. And second: Sit!” “And what is the evening about, baby?”

“To indulge in decadence – several levels of decadence.”

“Without sex? How the devil is this supposed to work?”

“Don’t you worry, just relax.”

“And really no sex?”

“Most certainly not.”

“Even if I turn into Sergio Rossi high heels afterwards, and you can walk with me wherever you want to?”

“Not even then!”

“God, how boring is that? I mean, what then do we need an intricate dinner for?

And, more to the point, at your place? After all, we men have this After Dinner You Must Lay Her software on our hard disc. Just as you ladies have, although with the obverse target.”

“Oh, come on, spare me your tedious expectations. Mind you, you could still try to talk me round. Just risk it, little man!”

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“You can bet your sweet little ass that I will.”

To myself I think, no sex, she must be totally crazy, but somehow it’s also a challenge – I am forced to start at zero again. Just as if you had been training for years, so that you can participate in some showcase discipline, the Men’s World Championship Downhill Race at Kitzbühel, or something of that sort, and at the start, they use a fucking motor saw to cut your left ski in two. Or you swot for weeks to get your helicopter license, and during the exam they keep asking you about navigation systems for aircraft carriers. If you nonetheless make it to the winner’s rostrum with your one and a half skis, the victory is probably twice as sweet. And if you manage to get the aircraft carrier license as well, your future will be even brighter. By the way, I should really get my helicopter license soon, a helicopter license has a sexy charisma. Then Kevin Delane and I could fly to the Steirereck Pogusch as a duo. In the 2000s, this was regarded as the ultimate way to hip. Today it would be called vintage, not to say old-fashioned. A boring waste of energy, come to think of it. But to own a helicopter license would still be sexy. Whereby the statement I Fly My Own Helicopter ouzes much more sex appeal than the arguably weaker I Have A Helicopter License So Let’s Rent. If I were a woman looking for adventure, masculine job descriptions like austronaut, nuclear physicist or crypto-analyst would have a higher turn-on factor than account manager for XYZ. But then, all of this is only skin deep. The sexiest job? Farmer, undoubtedly. This will have you score. OK, winemaker should also do the trick. Or yoga teacher. But this is it.

Therefore I now join Kristin’s game and sit down at her highly decorated and extremely stylish dinner table. She has instructed the Palais Coburg team to assemble a four-course dinner and to have it delivered, including the chef, the whole thing is pure luxury (Galway oysters, Breton lobster, goose liver parfait with Château d’Yquem, Asetra caviar, ribbon noodles with white truffles, flanked by a Langhe Nebbiolo Costa Russi Angelo Gaja). But through all the courses I wonder whether their sequence is indeed governed by a secret code, a hidden message that I should be able to crack, an underlying pattern attacking the sub-consciousness, like a historical masterpiece, something that, in its total aesthetics, will provide you with the much-needed golden key. And what exactly do oysters, lobster, caviar and goose liver contain, that you cannot get from a can of Vier Diamanten Tuna or a pile of Recheis Krautfleckerl? Does the luxurious, expensive and exclusive actually produce corresponding thoughts? Will a rare and expensive wine, a Château Mouton Rothschild 45 perhaps, turn you into an equally exquisite lover? And will spooning down Sevruga caviar twice a week turn you

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from a yellow press hack into the world’s next Lord Byron? Is luxury food of any significance for the biochemistry? And which doors, exactly, will you then be able to find, let alone open? All this thinking leaves me mute. Anyway, Kristin is paddling through a fast flowing torrent of words, and she talks about bourgeois hypocrisy, and she tells me that she has bought Parov Stelar’s new CD, and that she fancies Johnny Depp, and that she will meet him soon, because he is also invited to the mega Tom Ford fashion show which will take place on the Great Wall. (I’m not, think I. I am so definitely not.) She talks about the trouble she had with a Man Ray photograph; her ex-husband had bought it for her at Daniel Wolf in New York, now it has turned out to be a fake. And about the probability that it is one of those 80 perfect copies which art anarchists from Paris spread about more than thirty years ago, in 1983. I tell her that this is not so bad, since fakes can come in many, and much meaner, shapes.

“Just imagine, baby, you have sex with someone who then turns out to be someone entirely different.”

“You mean, I have sex with you and then it turns out that you are not Klaus von Oesterreich, but Kevin Delane.”

“Who the fuck is ...”

“Doesn’t matter. Could be Johnny Depp or whoever you like.”

“Hey, could you please leave Chocolate Pirate Johnny aside, I am already jealous enough. Anyway, wouldn’t that be rather bitter? Take André Gide for instance: he told his Paris boys that they had slept with a famous man, since he was the wellknown and highly popular – André Malraux.”

Obviously, Kristin is highly fascinated by this my Copy Sex idea, and I think, well, I am on the right track, I will cajole her. Perhaps she needs some additional kick to get in the mood. But why actually, is it because I am not good enough for her, and does one really always have to play to the gallery? Why is it that ladies like Kristin constantly demand the Know Everything Do Everything act, why must a man always have something new at hand and his gun ready? Is there no chance for it to ever work on a normal I Am What I Am level? All this internal questioning is getting increasingly tedious, and by now I feel very small and sheepish. Presumably, I suffer from an enormous inferiority complex and am in constant denial mode, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that I am the poorest

80 HipVieNna Essay

Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien

ﾂｩ Kunsthistorisches Museum mit MVK und ﾃ傍M

Maria-Theresien-Platz 1010 Wien Phone +43 1 525 24-0 khm.at

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devil of them all. Yes, Klaus von Oesterreich, you are small fry, the smallest, you are micro fry. To be inhaled, and then forgotten. Always falling for women who play in a far higher league, go back to St. Lambrecht and get yourself a Susi, a far better match for you, believe me. By now, I have actually lost all interest in sex, and I tell Kristin exactly that. I feel like a centre forward who is condemned to sit on the reserve bench all through the s­ econd half, while his adversary is scoring again and again. Bicycle kick/cross corner, dive ball/header/cross corner, 35 metre free kick and on and on and on.

“Hey baby, you’ve won. I no longer want to talk you round. I am so lacking a plan.”

“You see, this is how we ladies feel regularly once a month.”

“You mean, you have your period?”

“Yes, my dear.”

For the rest of the evening, we are happily lolling around on Kristin’s Terence ­Conran couch, sharing a bottle of Solaia by Antinori and listening to Symphony No. 6 (Sinfonia semplice) and Symphony No. 3 (Sinfonia espansiva) by Carl Nielsen, the Piano Concerto No. 5 by Sergei Prokofiev and a random selection of Camille Saint-Saëns. B like Kristin. Magic dwells in each beginning ...

It feels like heaven, and I want to spend a weekend with Kristin. By all means and soon, very soon. Therefore I send a text message to my friends at Reiters Supreme: Do you have a suite for me next week, I bring a friend. And the wonderful band at the Reiters texts back: Come, we’ll be glad to have you. The joy is all mine, since this means that Kristin and I will stay in one of Central Europe’s most soulful resorts, the Reiters Supreme amidst the rolling hills of beautiful Southern ­Burgenland. Anyway, I now fall asleep next to her, and I am not sure that I ever want to wake up again. A feeling of extravagant bliss.

The next day dawns with the following realisation: Life is beautiful, my body could do with some beautifying. Hence I call my sister Anna and ask her if she can give me a Pilates lesson. Her studio (Pilates System Europe) has straightened many a buckled manager back; hovever, she is completely over-booked and has absolutely no time for me. I decide to spend an hour on the treadmill at John Harris instead.

After approximately thirty minutes, Thomas Birnbaumer approaches me: “What about your liquid intake? Can’t be healthy without.”

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I consider this as too complex, too much shop. I try a joke, have you ever seen a cheetah on the hunt, Don Tomaso, and has it stopped to drink some water? You haven’t, have you? Neither have I. But Thomas has heard it all before and puts on the kind of smile a father shows to his teenage son when the latter sets out to explain the world. This he has followed by one of his special training sessions, the ones that make me grow at least two centimetres, that trigger the Chest Out Be Proud syndrome, that, in short, make me a better man. And that have me say to myself: Klaus von Oesterreich, I love you.

Essay HipVienna 83

Marco Locatin takes us on an art-minded tour through Vienna. It ends as these things often do: at the hip Freyung 4 with a really good Johnnie Walker Blue.

Only what we dream is what we truly are, because all the rest, having been realised, belongs to the world and to everyone.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet Tolja is looking at the chessboard. While he ponders what he sees, he keeps stroking his cat’s Boris backbone; the latter has been occupying Tolja’s lap for several hours now. “Double it, why don’t you double it,” purrs Boris in a language only his owner can understand. Without further ado, Tolja centralises his black queen, looks his opponent straight in the face and says, rather loudly: “Check1, and double”2. The corner of Trotzki’s3 mouth gives a small jerk – while the cat treats itself to a glass of Fernet. Pour Trotzki. Double yet again! A murmur travels through the room full of observers. Some bet on the next move while others, reverently, note possible alternatives on small pieces of paper. Everywhere in Vienna the night has drawn in. The streets are empty, while Café Central4 is full. Check. Double.

Cognac. A kingdom for some cognac, thinks Trotzki. The waiter, obviously a man with telepathic abilities, assiduously hands him the snifter; the revolutionary downs it instantly. While Trotzki is searching for possible escape routes, Tolja smugly lectures the bystanders: “Chess is war. How about the revolution now, dear Trotzki?

1 Chess. From Persian shah/king; the kingly game). Strategic board game. Possibilities after the second (!) move: 72,048. The number of potential positions is estimated as 2.28 x 1046. 64 squares, 32 pieces, 2 players. Chess is jogging for the brain. According to various studies, it can also save you from ­Alzheimer and dementia.

2 Double. If money is involved, let’s say 10 euros, and a player says “double”, the sum is doubled (20 euros).

If the opponent does not accept the double, he has lost the game and the money is paid out (10 euros).

3 Leo Trotzki (born as Lew Dawidowitsch Bronstein, 1879-1940). Russian revolutionary, Marxist ­theorist, founder of the Red Army. On his escape from the Tsarist regime in St. Petersburg, Trotzki and his wife and children lived in Vienna for a couple of years – in the 19th district, Rodlergasse 25. He used to play chess at Café Central.

4 Café Central, Herrengasse 14. The legendary coffeehouse opened in 1876. At the turn of the century, when Vienna was the capital of the Habsburg monarchy as well Central Europe’s political, economical and cultural epicentre, many artists and intellectuals used the Café Central as their extended living room (“Not at home, but still not exposed to fresh air”). The poet Peter Altenberg had his post sent to the Central, Arthur Schnitzler and Sigmund Freud were regulars. Rumour has it that even a certain penniless landscape painter who lived in one of Vienna’s first social institutions, the men’s hostel at Meldemannstrasse 27 in the 20th district, came to the Central from time to time. If he ever played chess there, is a matter of ongoing dispute. His name: Adolf Hitler.

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You’ve lost a battle, but you can still win the war. You of all people should know that.” Yet Trotzki does no longer notice the murmur around him and keeps staring at the chessboard. As if his pieces had nothing at all to do with him. With shaky hands he takes his king from the board. The cat winks impishly, rearranges its neckerchief and, as if to bid farewell, lifts its top hat1.

Tolja is waking up slowly, his beloved cat’s content purr still in his ear. Seems as if he has read way too many books about fin de siecle Vienna …

“The human mind needs patterns, a structure”, says I. We are sitting in the bar area of the restaurant Zum Schwarzen Kameel2 and order fingerfood schnitzels3 plus Grüner Veltliner4. “Structure, Tolja! You, as a chess player, should know about that. Look, I give you a simple example: Have you heard of the A-I-D-A principle? Not Verdi’s creation, but good nonetheless.” Tolja – refined and personable, with black hair and gloriously blue, alert eyes, yet still confused by his recent dream in which he wrangles quite a substantial sum out of Trotzki, downs a s­ topka of icy-cold Russian Standard5 for illumination and shakes his head. “This is clarity. A texture like oil, a finish like silk, the effect of a high-percent turbo fuel.

Where were we? Aida, Verdi, the State Opera?” “Bullshit! A-I-D-A. It’s an acronym. Stands for Attention, Interest, Desire, Action. The principle behind – so the 1 We lift our imaginary top hats in reference to Mikhail Bulgakov’s fantastic master piece The Master and Margarita, in which a huge tom-cat plays a not insignificant role.

2 Zum Schwarzen Kameel, Bognergasse 5, district 1. Interior: Venetian style. At the front: the bar area, two tables. Small menu. Sandwiches (the classic: ham with horseradish), also to take away. At the right: the restaurant. Best table for a discreet rendez-vous: on the right side, next to the door. Best waiter: Arben, called Benny. Used to be an actor in Tirana, now he is the star of the restaurant’s ensemble: poised and very charming indeed.

3 Viennese Schnitzel. Of the veal, crumbed. Frequently prepared in the pan, with clarified butter. Fingerfood schnitzel, or schnitzel 2.0: antipasti style, i.e. served in slices and eaten with the help of tooth sticks. As a dip we recommend ketchup, bilberry’s jam, sauce hollandaise or any available chutney.

4 Grüner Veltliner. White wine. Austria’s most important autochthonous grape. It mostly grows in terraces in the Wachau region, and comes under the classification labels Steinfeder, Federspiel and Smaragd. The best Veltliners are courtesy of the vineries Knoll, Jamek, Alzinger, Hirzberger, Rudi Pichler, F.X. Pichler and Bründlmayer. With its lively acidity, it is perfect with hearty dishes like crumbed meat. However, it tastes equally good with fish, sushi and sashimi.

5 In 1992, Russian oligarch Rustam Tariko founded the Russian Standard company in St. Petersburg.

Various vodka brands are produced under this roof (and name). Legend has it that it was the Russian scientist Dmitri Iwanowitsch Mendelejew who developed the original recipe for “little water” (the name vodka derives from the Russian diminutive). Fact is that around 1880, Mendelejew has introduced “gram” as the unit of measurement for vodka. 100 grams are the capacity of the stopka, the traditional Russian vodka glass (alas, a solid quintuple). Mendelejew was also the one who developed the Periodic Table of the Elements, but this is a different story altogether.

Essay – Marco Locatin HipVienna 85

say – marketing. And human relationships. I’ll explain it to you … Level one: What is the world’s strongest currency, what do you think?” “Gold?” “No! Don’t be daft. Attention of course. You see a woman. Attention. You know what I mean, confrere?” “Yes, sure, I am totally with you.” (But, what my Russian friend1 really thinks is, “Where’s my Russian Standard?”) “Okay, next step: Interest. The lady arouses your interest. Of course she does, sod-all would happen if she didn’t. Step three: Desire. You want her.” “I know Desire, it’s a fine old Yello2 track,” Tolja, well-versed in anything that has to do with pop culture, wanders from the subject in a most elated manner. “Let’s not digress, my dear young friend. We are not talking music here. Final step: Action. Check. Do. Conquer. Understood?” “Understood. Well, then let’s get some action and check out from here. My desire today is art. After all, we’re in Vienna.” “Good plan,” I say. “Will also feed the neural network with new impulses. Eric Kandel3, by the way, has written a brilliant book about it.”

The air tastes sweet and spring-like, as we lissomly (Thanks, Mr Veltliner!) make our way from the Kameel in Bognergasse, turning sharp right across Kohlmarkt and to the Kunsthistorisches Museum4. Bad mistake, since Tolja presses his nose against every single shop window (Chanel, Akris, Ferragamo, Diesel, Dolce & Gabbana, Demel). And takes photos of them all, approximately 100 shots with his mobile phone. Well, the chess master can afford it, isn’t he the one who, more or less in passing, lines his pockets by gouging the ignoramus on the internet. This has me activate my very own reward system now: I light a Corset Menthol5 and 1 Ripley’s Game (1974), published in German as Der amerikanische Freund (The American Friend).

Part of the Ripley trilogy by American author Patricia Highsmith. In order to maintain his style of life, Tom Ripley does not shy away from either marriage or murder. And gets away with it. In 1977, Wim Wenders adapted the book for the big screen – a brilliant movie starring Bruno Ganz and D ­ ennis Hopper. Highsmith was a big cat lover and dedicated some of her best stories to cats.

2 Yello (a yelled hello). Avant-garde music duo from Switzerland, founded in 1978 and consisting of sound experimentalist Boris Blank and singer/concept artist Dieter Meier. The latter, born into a wellto-do banker family and temporarily addicted to the games of roulette and poker, has now turned to wine-making and cattle breeding. The organic variety. In Argentina. On May 29 2014, he plays a gig in Vienna. Desire is an atmospheric track from the 1985 album Stella.

3 Erik Kandel, US-American Nobel Prize winner with Austrian roots, is one of the world’s most ­eminent neuro-scientists. Kandel: “Truth has many dimensions, and the way you arrive at truth in complex situations is through many perspectives. I see psychoanalysis, art and biology ultimately coming together.” Important publication: The Age of Insight. The Quest to Understand the Unconscious in Art, Mind, and Brain, from Vienna 1900 to the Present. Random House, 2012.

4 Kunsthistorisches Museum, Maria-Theresien-Platz.

5 Superslim cigarette, looks like a hybrid between a nose spray and a bottle of ear drops. Will soon be banned by the EU. Highly addictive.

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allow my eyes to follow a group of young girls just that tiny decisive moment too long … A Philip Roth situation. “Old age is not a battle, it’s a … (massacre).” But let’s not go into this. “Come on, mate, let’s make a move.”

The Kunsthistorisches is not at all that busy yet. And a good thing too – the current special exhibition The World of Fabergé1 is a must. A steno report: Virtuoso craftsmanship combines with a highly imaginative attention to detail. This aside, one could still spend many hours at the Kunsthistorisches. Like Reger, protagonist of Thomas Bernhard’s Alte Meister2, who comes every other day to spend a couple of hours with Tintoretto’s Portrait of a White Bearded Man. Sure, we also want to see White Beard. “Makes me a little nervous, the old chap. Knows more about me than I feel comfortable with. How about us paying a visit to the hare instead?” “The hare?,” Tolja repeats my words uncomprehendingly. “Which hare?”

“No worries, I meant Durer’s master piece. An icon, so to speak. Its burrow is just a stone’s throw away, at the Albertina.”

“So, the hare has been duly admired, the Belvedere3 is rescheduled to next time.

Schiele, Klimt and all the rest. And in summer they show Silver Age – Russian Art around 1900. A Cinemascope event.” “Nothing against culture, but I need a drink. And quickly.” In front of the Albertina, a gank of buskers is playing “Well show me the way to the next whiskey bar…4” Nice choice. And hardly a coincidence. We don’t ask why, decide to see it as a cosmic hint and set our inner GPS to Freyung. Freyung 4.

Freyung 4 is situated in – would you have known? – Freyung square, and faces the inner court of a city palace. A daytime restaurant, a nightime bar. Breakfast and/or a terrace are also available. “I like multi-functional locations.” “And I like 1 The World of Fabergé is shown until May 18, as part of the 2013-15 Austro-Russian Cultural Season and to celebrate the 90th anniversary of the commencement of diplomatic ties between the USSR/­ Russia and Austria, and the 525th anniversary of the first diplomatic contacts between Moscow and Vienna.

2 Thomas Bernhard, 1931-1989, Austrian novelist and playwright. In Alte Meister (Old Masters, 1985), protagonist Reger works for the Times; every other day we find him sitting in front of ­Tintoretto’s White Bearded Man. Thomas Bernhard’s works for the Burgtheater Wien are legendary, and in ­theatre director Claus Paymann he had found an ideal partner in crime. More often than not, his highly provocative pieces (Heldenplatz!) were followed by veritable uproar.

3 The Belvedere. From June 27 to September 28 2014, the museum presents Silver Age – Russian Art in Vienna around 1900.

4 The Alabama Song. Lyrics by Bertolt Brecht (translation to English by Elisabeth Hauptmann), music

by Kurt Weill. Best cover version by The Doors (1967).

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bars,” is Tolja’s extra dry return. Okay, la mise en scène1: vaults, flattering light, cool music, highly sophisticated crowd. A good setting.

We are standing at the bar’s bar. Next to us: a blonde. Alone. With champagne. L­ evel 1: She has our undivided attention. A-I-D-A, you remember? Attention. Interest.

Desire. Action. We are on gin by Tanqueray2 plus tonic by Fentiman’s. This can’t be wrong. “What does a man really need in life?,” I ask and let the Alpha Animal3 show a little; for the blonde I act the man who knows it all. By now we are playing A-I-D-A on level two: Fishing for interest, by hook or by crook. “A guru, a woman, a lawyer, a bar. Hey, another foursome!,” I answer my own question in a rather flamboyant manner. “Wait, you smart-ass! (And let’s admit, the lady has a point.) Nice, in theory,” the blonde sasses while, at the same time, tilting her head to one side and raising her left eyebrow. Years of training, I assume. Nonetheless a charming trick, fit to wow any circus audience. “Gentlemen, a little more depth if you please. The guru, granted. But the right woman is hard to come by.” “Whoa, let’s not get carried away, for us Russians it is all about the soul, the heart. And the right woman at the right time”, Tolja chips in to settle our non-exisiting dispute. “Timing4 is a fine art. And now it’s time for Johnny Walker Blue5. A bottle and a bucket with ice, please.“ Alas, we clear the bar, decide to get better aquainted with the lady’s ­repertoire and retire to a discrete corner of the room. While the two of us are bending Lady Eyebrow’s ear, and with very little restraint indeed, Boris the cat steps out of a cloud of smoke and approaches our table. It winks impishly, rearranges its ­neckerchief and, contentedly, lifts its top hat.

1 Mise en scène (French for “placing on stage”): an expression used in film theory, applied to everything that appears before the camera and its arrangement – composition, sets, props, actors, costumes, and lighting.

2 Tanqueray Gin: In 1830, company founder Charles Tanqueray had a destillery built in the London district of Bloomsbury, where he then produced high quality gin. G & T (gin and tonic) was the favourite drink of the late Queen Mum. She became 100 years old, and boy, she bore her age well.

Gin and tonic has many advantages: It is available at every bar on this planet and can be dosed as desired – from almost virginal (2cl) to kind of suicidal (>6cl).

3 Alpha Clubbing. A legendary event series hosted by dear friend Klaus von Oesterreich. A revival is planned for the near future.

4 Bad Timing: A psychological thriller bordering on the baroque, directed by Nicolas Roeg and dating back to 1980. The cast included Art Garfunkel (yes, the very one), Theresa Russell and Harvey Keitel.

Location: Vienna. Plot: An American lady and a professor of psychology enter upon an amour fou complete with psycho-analytic set pieces and non-linear flashbacks. The producers were not happy with the result. Statement: “A sick film, by sick people, for sick people.”

5 Johnnie Walker: a Scottish blend whisky produced by Diageo, the world’s leading premium drinks business. It is the world’s No 1 scotch whisky. Johnnie Walker Blue is the premium brand.

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Albertina

Albertinaplatz 1 1010 Vienna Daily 10 am – 6 pm, Wed 10 am – 9 pm Phone +43 1 534 83-0 albertina.at

The Albertina art museum received its name from its location, the grand neoclassical palace that once belonged to Archduke Albrecht of Saxe-Teschen (1738-1822). Those who haven’t visited it can hardly claim to have been at Vienna at all, and so they all come, from Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie to many other prominent visitors. A short glance at the exhibitions in recent years has one realise the museums’s significance: Richter, Lüpertz, Michelangelo, Picasso, Magritte, surrealism and impressionism.

The Albertina stands for the past, the present and the future. History is represented by the palace as such and its Habsburg Staterooms. Their original Louis XI décor had once been ordered from the royal court ateliers in Paris and Versailles. From 2000 onwards the Staterooms were restored, a process in which the original furniture was also returned; by 2006/07 this ambitious undertaking was more or less finished. And visitors of the Albertina are not limited to aesthetic delights alone: Its restaurant belongs to the DO & CO empire, a guarantee for unfailing quality and the very best service. While enjoying a cup of coffee on the terrace, guests admire the view of the ancient trees in Burggarten and the imperial facade of a side wing of the Austrian National Library.

All the museum’s exhibitions must be labelled top-class. The permanent Monet to Picasso.

The Batliner Collection assembles highlights from the last 100 years of art history. The Albertina also holds one of the world’s most important and most comprehensive graphic

art collections; it comprises approx. 50,000 drawings and watercolours as well as some 90,000 prints ranging from the late Gothic period to contemporary art. As an extraordinary treasure trove of visual knowledge, the Albertina has also been gathering phptographs since the mid 19th century – although this was only rediscovered when the photographic collection was properly reconstituted in 1999. For its director Dr. Klaus Albrecht Schröder, the Albertina is „a second home“.

Home also to one of the most famous pieces of art ever, on display from March 2014 onwards, and for the first time since 2003: Albrecht Dürer’s Hare (1502).

From Dürer to Napoleon – The Origins of the Albertina 14 March – 29 June 2014 Blow-Up – Antonioni‘s Classic Film and Photography 1 May – 24 August 2014 Arnulf Rainer – Retrospective 1 September 2014 – 6 January 2015 Joan Miró 12 September 2014 – 11 January 2015

Upper Belvedere Prinz Eugen-Strasse 27 1030 Vienna Daily 10 am – 6 pm Phone +43 1 79 55 71 34 belvedere.at

Lower Belvedere, Orangery Rennweg 6 1030 Vienna Daily 10 am – 6 pm Wed 10 am – 9 pm Phone +43 1 79 55 71 34

The Belvedere Palaces date back to the early 18th century, when they were built by the famous Baroque architect Johann Lucas von Hildebrandt as a summer residence for

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Prince Eugene of Savoy (1663-1736). The palace ensemble, consisting of the Upper and the Lower Belvedere with Orangery and Palace Stables as well as extensive gardens, is commonly regarded as one of the world’s finest examples of Baroque architecture.

Today, the Belvedere hosts the most important collection of Austrian art from the Middle Ages to the present day, complemented by selected works of international artists. At the Upper Belvedere, where the Austrian State Treaty was signed in 1955, works from 500 years are assembled. A special focus in on art nouveau and the works of artists belonging to the Viennese Secession, among them Gustav Klimt, Koloman Moser and Josef Hoffmann.

Apart from that, the comprehensive collection at the Belvedere conveys an impressive picture of the Baroque art produced in the lands of the former Habsburg Monarchy.

The eighteenth century in particular is represented in almost encyclopaedic form via paintings and sculptures, with the sculpted Character Heads by Franz Xaver Messerschmidt as its drawing card.

A predictable highlight in 2014 is the

exhibition Silver Age – Russian Art in Vienna around 1900, presenting Russian art and cultural relations between Russia and Austria at the beginning of the 20th century. The term Silver Age refers to the cultural bloom in Russian literature and the visual arts after 1900 and is considered an equivalent to the West’s art nouveau.

Among the featured artists are Michail Vrubel, Valentin Serov, Nicholas Roerich and Boris Kustodiev.

Upper Belvedere

Masterpieces in Focus: Franz Barwig the Elder 16 May – 7 September 2014

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Masterpieces in Focus: Josef Dobrowsky 17 September 2014 –18 January 2015 Lower Belvedere

Vienna – Berlin, The Art of Two Cities 14 February – 15 June 2014 Silver Age – Russian Art in Vienna around 1900 27 June – 28 September 2014

Kunsthalle Wien MuseumsQuartier Museumsplatz 1 1070 Vienna Daily 10 am – 7 pm Thu 10 am – 9 pm Phone +43 1 521 89-0 kunsthallewien.at

Kunsthalle Wien Karlsplatz Treitlstrasse 2 1040 Vienna Daily 10 am – 7 pm Thu 10 am – 9 pm Phone +43 1 521 89-0 kunsthallewien.at

Kunsthalle Wien is Vienna’s exhibition space for international contemporary art and discourse. At its two venues at MuseumsQuartier and Karlsplatz, contemporary art is not only shown, but also presented in its specific contexts. Thematic group exhibitions, solo exhibitions by international artists, retrospectives by well-known representatives of contemporary art as well as exhibitions by emerging artists add an outstanding profile to Kunsthalle Wien that highlights its relation with both the international and the local art scene. With its broad program Kunsthalle Wien emphasizes that the subjects taken up by contemporary art are manifold. The combination of artistic practice and its theoretical reflection are

therefore most important for its many exhibition activities. The intense debate on important questions of our time is also reflected in an extensive program of events such as talks and discussions.

The Kunsthalle’s conceptual orientation, its versatility as well as the fact that besides all serious discussion, self-irony and the will to experiment are integral to its character, is aptly demonstrated by its new corporate design. Based on the eagle, the city of Vienn’s heraldic animal, the Belgian artist and graphic designer Boy Vereecken developed a dynamic logo that renounces all fixed representation. With each exhibition project, the eagle takes another form and thus becomes the visual manifestation of the venue’s versatility. Nicolaus Schafhausen, director of Kunsthalle Wien, describes the house’s new graphic concept as „brutal, but sexy“ and states that „it correlates perfectly with what the Kunsthalle is: styleshaping, discoursive, provocative…”

I’m Isa Genzken, The Only Female Fool 28 May – 7 September 2014 Der Brancusi Effect 12 June – 21 September 2014 New Ways of Doing Nothing 27 June – 12 October 2014 Blue Times 3 October 2014 – 11 January 2015 Kidnapper‘s Foil 14. November 2014 – 11. Jänner 2015 Tony Conrad 3 December 2014 – 1 March 2015

Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien Maria-Theresien-Platz 1010 Vienna Tue – Sun, 10 – 6 pm Thu 10 am – 9 pm Phone +43 1 525 24-0 khm.at

Vienna has landmarks galore: St. Stephen’s Cathedral, Town Hall, Ferris Wheel. The impressive twin buildings hosting the Kunsthistorisches and Naturhistorisches Museum, linked by Maria-Theresia-Platz complete with matching monument, are architectural milestones and emblematic for the famous Wiener Ringstrasse. The development of the two museums – the art museum was to host, among others, the vast Habsburg collections – turned out to be a lengthy business. Various plans were presented to Emperor Franz Joseph I. Some architects wanted to build closer to the Hofburg, others favoured one huge building instead of two. In 1870, Franz Joseph decided to commission Gottfried Semper, who had been called in as an additional advisor, to alter and complete a plan initially presented by Carl von Hasenauer, stylistically modelled on the Italian Renaissance. It is strongly recommended to set a whole day aside for the Kunsthistorisches Museum: the palatial house presents not only top-class temporary exhibitions, but also an Egyptian and Near Eastern Collection, a Collection of Greek and Roman Antiquities, a vast picture gallery, a coin collection and a library.

Diego Velázquez 28 October 2014 – 15 February 2015

The Kunsthistorisches Museum presents the first individual exhibition in honour of this famous artist in the service of La Casa de Austria. Thanks to the close familial and political relationship between the Habsburg

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Houses in Vienna and Madrid in the 17th century, the Picture Gallery of the Kunsthistorisches Museum owns an important group of extraordinary portraits produced by the court painter of King Philipp IV. Alongside the portraits of Maria Teresa and the Infant Philipp Prosper, the enchanting painting series of Infanta Margarita Teresa in particular achieved worldwide fame. Outstanding items on loan from the National Gallery London and the Museo del Prado provide for a differentiated view of the unique artistic works of Diego Velásquez.

dragon’s tongues. From these natural products, artists created virtuoso works of art.

Over 2200 fabulous artworks await you in the Kunstkammer Wien. Among its highlights are examples of fabulous goldsmith work such as the celebrated Saliera by Benvenuto Cellini, outstanding sculptures such as the Krumau Madonna, magnificent bronze statuettes, delicate and bizarre ivories and precious stone vessels as well as valuable clocks, elaborate automatons, strange scientific instruments, sumptuous gameboards and much, much more.

Kunstkammer Wien

Galerie Ernst Hilger

Maria-Theresien-Platz 1010 Vienna Tue – Sun, 10 – 6 pm Thu 10 am – 9 pm Phone +43 1 525 24-0 khm.at

Let's say, the Kunstkammer Wien is the cradle of the museum. It is the world's most important collection of its kind. Visitors of the Kunstkammer enter "a museum within the museum" – to quote a sentence from the homepage and, honestly, we couldn't have phrased it any better. Twenty newly-installed galleries invite you to experience a world of beauty and wit, curiosities and wonder.

The Kunst- und Wunderkammern (arts and natural wonders rooms) of the Renaissance and Baroque periods were encyclopaedic, universal collections that attempted to reflect the entire knowledge of the day. Particularly desirable were rare, curious and unusual objects.

From the late Middle Ages to the Baroque, Habsburg emperors and archdukes collected exotic and uncommon materials, to which they often ascribed magical powers, such as precious stones, ostrich eggs, coral and shark’s teeth, which were considered to be

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Dorotheergasse 5 1010 Vienna Tue – Fri 11 am – 6 pm Sat 11 am – 4 pm Phone +43 1 51 25 31 50 hilger.at

HilgerBROTKunsthalle Wien 10 Absberggasse 27 1100 Vienna

Galerie Ernst Hilger at Dorotheergasse 5 (first floor) in 1010 Vienna represents artists such as Erró and Mel Ramos, along with exponents of Austrian modernism from the 1960s onwards and main exponents of the most important international art movements of the 20th century – from Pablo Picasso and Jean Dubuffet to Pop Art artists like Andy Warhol and Keith Haring through to Narrative Figuration (Jacques Monory). Ernst Hilger was the head of the FEAGA for several years and member of numerous art fair committees including Art Basel; he acted as the longest-serving president of the Austrian Gallery Association and was instrumental in establishing the present conception of the role of galleries as partners of museums, col-

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lectors and representatives of the state.

Yet the focus is by no means on the past alone: Galerie Ernst Hilger embraces the future by showing artists like Damien Hirst with his works on paper. And there will always be a special place reserved for Austrian Modernism from the 1960s onwards.

Cooperations with various companies (Paylife, Siemens, Austrian Airlines, Unicredit, 98,3 Superfly.fm) did not simply pursue economic interests, but helped to establish new, important collections and collecting bodies, as well as creating new exhibition venues for the arts. In cooperation with various curators, the gallery extended its sphere of action during the last 15 years, to include the new art scenes and markets in Iran, Africa and South America. Hilger NEXT, hostet by the former anker bread factory in Absberggasse 27, assembles these positions.

In order to extend and strengthen the cooperation with international exhibition venues and museums, the HilgerBROTKunsthalle was inaugurated in 2009. This space with its 800 m² represents the gallery’s laboratory for curatorial projects and influences and supports all involved partners. Cooperations have included the Museum of Modern Art El Salvador, the Margulies Collection, the Mestna Galleria Ljubjana, the Museum of Modern Art Bukarest (Lara Boubnova), the City Gallery Sofia, the MMoMA Moscow. All these institutions have shown exhibitions created with and presented at HilgerBROTKunsthalle.

Galerie Ernst Hilger Wien 1 Deborah Sengl, 20 May – 28 June 2014 HilgerBROTKunsthalle Peter Krawagna. Paintings.

2 May – 15 June

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Konzett Gallery Spiegelgasse 21 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 513 01 03 artkonzett.com

Anita Konzett Schmuckgalerie Spiegelgasse 21 1010 Vienna Phone +42 1 513 01 01 schmuck-konzett.com

A passion for the arts and extended collecting activities – these are the cornerstones of the Konzett Gallery’s program. Konzett Gallery, founded in 1989 in Graz, since 2006 located in Spiegelgasse in downtown Vienna, possesses a comprehensive selection of ethnographic art. In the 1980s, Philipp Konzett also started to collect works belonging to Viennese actionism; the oeuvre of Günter Brus, Otto Muehl, Hermann Nitsch and Rudolf Schwarzkogler is highly represented within the gallery’s program, a spectre well complemented by Arnulf Rainer, Alfons Schilling and Valie Export.

In addition, the collection comprises works by international artists who put themselves in the context of Viennese actionism; it includes related predecessors, contemporaries and later tendencies, among them Gutai, no-art, conceptual art, arte povera and body art, as well as works by Marcel Duchamp, Yves Klein, Andy Warhol or Bruce Nauman.

The works of Joseph Beuys and Dieter Roth, dealing with questions relating to the ephemeral and the sustainable and thus representing a consistent counterpart to the very “physical” art of actionism, form yet another focal point in the gallery’s collecting, exhibition and art trade activities. Also represented are art brut and contemporary art by Nobuyoshi Araki, Hans Weigand, Franz West, Heimo Zobernig and Martin Kippenberger.

Lawrence Weiner

Galerie Hubert Winter

Breite Gasse 17, 1070 Wien Phone +43 1 524 09 76 galeriewinter.at

Embedded in this eminent core inventory, a younger generation also plays a decisive role. A number of thematic exhibitions build bridges to the contemporary set. Current positions, startling and individual, like those of Christian Eisenberger, Zenita Komad, Rita Nowak or Rudolf Polanszky, can be found. And Philipp Konzett does not only collect objets d’art in the narrower sense, but also miscellaneous items, books and original documents. In the exhibition Discover and Possess: Insights into Austrian Private Collections that was shown in autumn 2005 at the Mumok in Vienna, Philipp Konzett was well represented as one of Austria’s most important private art collectors.

Located at the same address, but on the ground floor, is the Anita Konzett Schmuckgalerie. The architecture of the jewellery shop is decisively minimalistic, the walls host paintings by local as well as international artists. All gem stones used for the designs are selected and arranged by Philipp’s wife Anita herself. Almost all pieces of jewellery are single copies; their high-quality finish renders them truly exceptional.

Galerie Knoll Wien

Gumpendorfer Strasse 18 1060 Vienna Tue – Fri 1 pm – 7 pm, Sat 1 pm – 5 pm Phone +431 587 50 52 knollgalerie.at

Galerie Knoll Budapest Liszt Ferenctér 10 1061 Budapest Phone +36 1 267 38 42 knollgaleria.hu

Hans Knoll is a discoverer, his preferred terrain is Eastern Europe. Knoll Galerie Wien was founded in the mid-1980s, Knoll Budapest in 1989 – the latter was the first privately owned

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gallery in the then still existing Eastern Bloc and had opened before the wall came down.

Hans Knoll, it seems, has well anticipated the liberalisation of Eastern Europe, and he has remained faithful to his mission ever since: today, both galleries stand for mutual exchange and the promotion of artists from both Eastern and Western Europe. Since the foundation of the gallery, many important artists have been shown in either Vienna or Budapest at early stages of their career. In the early 1090s, Knoll has started his activities in Russia; he is a member of the Art Moscow’s advisory board and is selling to, as well as importing from, Russia.

In addition to the gallery activities, Hans Knoll and his team organise art excursions, among others to Moscow, St. Petersburg, Bucharest and Budapest. The research project EEC (Eastern European Collectors) liaises with local partners and investigates current collectors’ trends in the nine most important post-socialist countries. Next year, a book on the subject will be published.

Among others, the Knoll galleries represent the following artists: AES+F, Ákos Birkás, Tony Cragg, Ivan Gorshkov, Paul Horn, Blue Noses, Mara Mattuschka, Csaba Nemes.

Galerie Krinzinger Seilerstätte 16 1010 Vienna Tue – Friday 12 noon – 6 pm Sat 11 am – 4 pm Phone +43 1 513 30 06 galerie-krinzinger.at

The gallery, which is situated in a historical city palace, collaborates with a number of renowned artists, but has also a 40-year tradition of supporting those who are up-andcoming. Since its foundation in 1971, Galerie Krinzinger has organised about 400 solo and group exhibitions, as well as contributions to

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international art fairs, in collaboration with such popular artists as Marina Abramović, Atelier van Lieshout, Kader Attia, Erik van Lieshout, Franz Graf, Jonathan Meese, Bjarne Melgaard, Hans Op de Beeck, Meret Oppenheim,Werner Reiterer, Eva Schlegel, Gavin Turk, Martin Walde, Mark Wallinger,Thomas Zipp, and many more.

Among others, the gallery program focusses on the kind of international performance art that is based on Viennese actionism. The Galerie Krinzinger Project Space, founded in 2002 in a former factory producing picture frames, curates thematic exhibitions as well as the Krinzinger Artist in Residence project with its current locations in Vienna, Hungary (Petömihalyfa) and Sri Lanka.

Galerie Emanuel Layr

An der Hülben 2 1010 Vienna Wed – Fri 12 (noon) – 6 pm, Sat 11 am – 3 pm Phone +43 1 524 54 90 emanuellayr.com

Galerie Emanuel Layr is situated in the heart of Vienna, close to other established galleries like Krinzinger and Nächst St. Stephan.

In March 2011, the gallery was reestablished under the directorship of Emanuel Layr.

Since then, the gallery programm expanded with new artists joining the gallery, among them Franz Amann, Plamen Dejanoff, Benjamin Hirte, Lisa Holzer, Lili Reynaud Dewar, Stano Filko and Philipp Timischl, while the collaboration with artists already represented by the gallery – Julien Bismuth, Mahony, Marius Engh and Nick Oberthaler – was intensified and now also spans organising publication projects and important archival work. The gallery also maintained its ambitious programm of solo exhibitions, punctuated by frequent group shows like ...forsakes its existence and gives its shape over

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to recollection curated by Severin Dünser and Christian Kobald, No day without a temperament curated by Benjamin Hirte, Very abstract and really figurative curated by Emanuel Layr and other curatorial projects such as curated by_vienna 2012, The Body Argument curated

by Florence Derieux and 2013 curated by Bart van der Heide. In October 2013, a temporary space in Munich was established. Art fair attendances, for example at Liste Basel, Frieze London, Art Basel Miami Beach, Artissima Turin, Viennafair and this year at the Independent New York, complement the exhibition activities of the gallery.

Current and future exhibitions: Oct – Nov / curated by Vienna Sept – Oct / Julien Bismuth Jun – Jul / Lisa Holzer May – Jun / Philipp Timischl Mar – May / Lili Reynaud-Dewar Mar / Independent NY – Andy Boot, Benjamin Hirte, Tom Humphreys, together with Christian Andersen Gallery

Mario Mauroner Contemporary Art Salzburg-Vienna

Weihburggasse 26 1010 Vienna Tue – Fri 11 am – 7 pm, Sa 11 am – 4 pm Phone +43 1 904 20 04 Residenz, Residenzplatz 1, 5020 Salzburg Tue – Fri 11 am – 6 pm, Sa 11 am – 2 pm Phone +43 662 845 185 galerie-mam.com

In 1972, Mario and Waltraud Mauroner founded Mario Mauroner Contemporary Art (fomerly known as Galeria Academia) in Salzburg. In 2004, after more than 30 years of professional experience on an international level and more than 400 successful exhibitions as well as participations in international art fairs (among others, ARCO, Art Basel, Art Brussels, Art Cologne, Art Dubai, FIAC,

Contemporary Istanbul), the gallery opened another branch in Vienna. The premises with an exhibition space of more than 1,100 square metres were carefully renovated; function-oriented adaptation and the unpretentious, yet concise redesign of the rooms, half of them situated at ground floor level, the other half in a magnificent basement of an historical inner city palace, open up new possibilities for the presentation of largescale installations and sculptures.

The gallery’s main focus is on international contemporary art from the Mediterranean.

Some focal points that have grown in importance over the years are sculptures, objects and installations by the art world’s most wellknown mavericks, including Tony Cragg, Jan Fabre, Javier Perez, Jaume Plensa, Baltazar Torres, Joana Vasconcelos, Paloma Navares, Bruno Peinado and Bernardi Roig. Also to be seen: abstract, non-figurative works by Joan Hernandez Pijuan and unconventional, boundary-crossing ventures between photography and object by Carmen Calvo and Susy Gomez. In addition, Austrian artists of both the internationally established and the aspiring kind – Herbert Brandl, Alfred Haberpointner, Bertram Hasenauer, Jochen Höller, Markus Hofer and Lois Renner – are represented in the gallery’s portfolio. The exciting architecture of a vaulted room in the gallery’s spacious basement – roomnumberOne – is to provide an inspiring challenge as well as a platform for introducing the new: the room will be solely dedicated to the presentation of young artists.

Vienna: Mai-July: Manfred Erjautz, Darina Kmetova, Joana Vasconcelos, Daniel von Weinberger September-October: Vadim Zakharov, Markus Hofer Salzburg: June-July: Baltazar Torres

OstLicht. Galerie für Fotografie Absberggasse 27 1100 Vienna Wed – Sat 12 noon – 6 pm Phone +43 1 966 20 66 ostlicht.at

It is a common phenomenon in New York, London and Barcelona: former factory premises are turned into spaces for the arts.

OstLicht gallery opened in June 2012 on the premises of a former bread factory and soon became another fixed star in the city’s photographical firmament. The OstLicht is an urban gallery with loft character; the space of approx. 500 square metres hosts a changing set of group and single exhibitions featuring international contemporary photography; exhibits are also for sale. In recent past, the works of Bryan Adams, Wim Wenders and Hellen van Meene produced a lot of interest and media attention.

VIENNAFAIR The New Contemporary Vienna International Art Fair, Messe Wien, Halle A, Messeplatz 1, 1020 Vienna 2 – 5 October 2014, viennafair.at

“VIENNAFAIR The New Contemporary is a highlight on the global art calendar and a vital meeting point for artists, galleries, collectors, and institutions from East and West.

This year’s carefully selected blend of leading Austrian and international galleries as well as an exciting VIENNA Talks program and other enticing side projects confirm – once more – VIENNAFAIR The New Contemporary as the top-ranking platform for contemporary art originating from Central, Eastern, and Southeastern Europe. Art con-

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nects people. Especially in the current political situation, it is important to have a forum for the peaceful exchange of ideas and social models. In the past two years we could develop a fair format together with the galleries and our project partners, which is not only an interesting marketplace for galleries from the East and the West but also a place where artists and curators can have fruitful exchanges and develop new concepts. The international recognition that VIENNAFAIR The New Contemporary has thereby attained is a special incentive for us to continue advancing these processes in the jubilee edition.

A special focus this year is the program for young art collectors. Today it is totally normal for many young people to visit museums and art institutions. However, the step into the galleries and to the point of buying artworks requires a special enthusiasm for art and artists. In the coming months VIENNAFAIR The New Contemporary is developing events with art collectors and artists, both in Austria and abroad, to convey this enthusiasm for purchasing and collecting art to young people,” says Christina Steinbrecher-Pfandt, artistic director of VIENNAFAIR The New Contemporary, on her expectations for the tenth VIENNAFAIR.

WestLicht

Westbahnstrasse 40 1070 Vienna Tue, Wed, Fri 2 pm – 7 pm, Thu 2 pm – 9 pm Sat, Sun 11 am – 7 pm Phone +43 1 522 66 36-60 westlicht.com

The statement on the website leaves us with little doubt: WestLicht. Schauplatz für Fotografie dedicates all its attention to the relationship between photographic apparatus and the art of photography. Both the technophiles and those who see are to be pro-

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vided with information and creativity all in one place. So far so good.

Buried in a backyard of Vienna’s arty 7th district, in the workshops of a former glass factory, resides Vienna’s dorado for photo aficionados, their ultimative place of desire.

With the support of local camera enthusiasts and collectors, mastermind Peter Coeln established the Center of Photography in 2001. Schauplatz is a play on words, meaning both venue and a place where people see, and indeed, it is various things: exhibition space, camera museum, photo collection, auction house, special library and art coffee house – in short, a meeting place for local as well as international photographers.

Various WestLicht exhibitions exemplified specific photographic styles, others paid hommage to star photographers like Henri Cartier Bresson, Elliott Erwitt, Herbert List and the unique Inge Morath. Add Ansel Adams and the master of bondage art, Nobuyoshi Araki, and you have just a few examples of the range covered in recent years. Since 2001, the WestLicht also hosts World Press Photo, the world’s biggest annual exhibition of photo journalism. However, what renders the place unique is its permanent exhibition of historically and technically significant cameras. The collection comprises approx. 800 exhibits, from the prehistory of photography to modern digital devices, and also includes valuable loans from other countries. Twice a year, selected pieces come under the hammer during the WestLicht Photographica Auction, the world’s most renowned camera auction. Since 2009 it is also possible to bid for premium photographs, among them hand-picked vintage prints from local as well as international star photographers.

David LaChapelle 2 June – 20 September 2014

Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien

Kunstkammer Wien

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Maria-Theresien-Platz 1010 Wien Phone +43 1 525 24-0 khm.at

Galerie Hubert Winter Breite Gasse 17 1070 Vienna Phone: +43 1 524 09 76 galeriewinter.at

Myths of origin, like they feature heavily in memoirs and biographies, are not without justification: They invest actions with meaning and put events into context. For Galerie Hubert Winter, the story began in 1971 in Vienna in a small shop in Seilergasse 19, in Vienna’s 1st district. The premises, a former dairy, were mainly used to present surrealistic works. In the 1970s, at the time when Picabia encountered Man Ray and Michaux saw in Artaud’s eyes, Vienna was different, to say the least. You could not even call it a desert, since the desert is, by now notoriously, alive.

“La ancora verde” (a traditional restaurant with the German name Zum Grünen Anker, 1794-1993, Grünangergasse 10) provided an anchor indeed; for the gallery people and their friends, it became their dorado. their oasis in the dry desert, generously catering to the hungry as well as the thirsty. And later, after the gallery had moved to Bäckerstrasse, everybody also knew where to go between 11 am (Café Alt Wien) and 2 pm (Oswald & Kalb). By then, the first “extraterrestrials” had arrived: Tuttle and Weiner, Boltanski and Acconci. In between, Lolita (yes, her) bounced into Djuna Barnes, and Gertrude Stein into Birgit Jürgenssen. Men like proficient women, they say – or some such thing.

Since 1999, Galerie Hubert Winter is located right behind the MuseumsQuartier. Helga Philipp, a pioneer of concrete art, will soon present her works at the gallery. In the course of the year, Nil Yalter and Francesca Woodman will follow.

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Represented artists: William Anastasi, Guillaume Bijl, Mary Ellen Carroll, Judith Fegerl, Ian Hamilton Finlay, Marcia Hafif, Nancy Haynes, Michael Höpfner, Birgit Jürgenssen (Estate), Michael Kidner, Paul Etienne Lincoln, Urs Lüthi, Chantal Michel, Richard Nonas, Ingo Nussbaumer, Danica Phelps, Helga Philipp, Katherine Porter, Laura Ribero, Fred Sandback, Haim Steinbach, Franz Vana, Lawrence Weiner, Francesca Woodman, Lei Xue, Nil Yalter.

Galerie Emanuel Layr An der H端lben 2, 1010 Wien Phone +43 1 524 54 90 emanuellayr.com

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hip places

25 Hours

Lerchenfelder Strasse 1-3 1070 Vienna Phone +43 1 521 51 0 25hours-hotel.com

There are few actresses who are both sweet and sexy. Sharon Stone has never been sweet, and Sandra Bullock has never been sexy. The 25Hours is more like Mila Kunis: There is something defiant and slightly rebellious about this place, just like Mila in Black Swan, but also something adorable, endearing, that is also sexy, like Mila in Friends with Benefits.

Anyway, all you can think of is how to get it on with her right here, on the spot. As soon as you step into the bar/restaurant of the 25 Hours Hotel Vienna with its magnificent city views, there is no way back, your status is changed, you are now In A Relationship. Suddenly it all becomes clear, you know that this, for once, is not just about sex, that you want to stay for breakfast, no, for the day. Going steady with the 25Hours becomes an idee fixe; this is the kind of girlfriend you will shower with presents, and, let’s face it, eventually you’ll put a ring on her finger.

The hotel’s interior and packaging are un­usual, and so is the catering: In the afternoon, cakes and quiches are served, and if you prefer to have a pizza delivered, this is no problem either. That’s what we call cool, ladies and gentlemen. Plus: In the evenings (Thursday night is a must), everybody who is anybody in the city’s media and creative scene gathers at the hotel bar, the so-called Dachboden, and the music fits the social l­ ayer like the proverbial glove. The same is true for the boss here, a wonderful lady called Fanny Holzer. A match made in heaven. And: The soul might be a vast domain, as local son Arthur Schnitzler put it, but so is the pricing policy for hotel rooms. At the 25Hours, ­prices are of the rather relaxed kind.

Social Layout: Art set, cool hunters, digital boheme, chillers, yuppies.

Charisma: Spectacular design city hotel with retro furniture and a very modern attitude.

The Guesthouse

Führichgasse 10 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 512 13 20 Mail office@theguesthouse.at theguesthouse.at

Keen breakfasters will love The Guesthouse (close to Karlsplatz and Stephansplatz, with a view of the opera), where they really get their money’s worth. The hotel’s USP is its Brasserie & Bakery which, in collaboration with the award-winning local wood oven bakery Gragger & Cie, provides all the bread and pastry. And: the consumption of fresh rolls and other goodies is not limited to the morning hours. The hotel has its focus firmly on the first meal of the day and delights early birds as well as late risers with breakfast offerings from 6.30 am to 11 pm. Guests can choose between simpler versions that come with a cup of coffee or tea, butter, marmalade, croissant and baked goods from the bakery (8 euros) or more sustaining variants, e.g. the Guesthouse Breakfast with coffee/tea, juice, scrambled eggs, fried mushrooms, leaf spinach, sautéed tomatoes, cottage cheese, ham, cheese and baked goods (18 euros).

Not that you will need all that many books during your stay in Vienna; but if you brought none and feel like reading – books to lend and comfy reading corners are spread all over the hotel.

The interior is modern; a collaboration with British designer Sir Terence Conran (a name well-known among design aficionados) has added a special touch; at The Guesthouse, comfortability and elegance are effortlessly combined.

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Hollmann Beletage

Köllnerhofgasse 6 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 961 19 60 Mail hotel@hollmann-beletage.at hollmannbeletage.at

Hollmann Beletage: this could be the name of a premium set of special equipment accompanying the latest Maybach; it could also be the private townhouse of a well-to-do industrialist family. What it is: an inner city nest (anything more central is difficult to imagine), put together, with extreme care and an immense love for detail, by a couple of really extravagant storks, a location breathing insightfulness and a truly modern philosophy. People like John Malkovich stay here when stopping over; those who lunch at the Hollmann Salon around the corner find that it is entirely up to them how much they pay for their sustaining three courses; after a day about town, hotel guests choose the on-premise spa to coordinate their impressions of the city and its vibes under the reviving light shower, in the sauna or soft steaming bath; at the open fireplace, they de- and reconstruct their own individual images of Vienna.

Truly gifted actors do not take themselves all that seriously; what is more, they do not usually advertise their skills. So, if Richard Burton once said that the only Italian word Liz Taylor knew was Bulgari, and one happens to know that Liz’ Italian was almost fluent, or if Robert Mitchum, the King of Cool, stated that actually, he had only three expressions ready: looking left, looking right and looking straight into the camera, or, on another occasion and even more precise, that he had two: one with and one without a horse, and one knows what a brilliant actor he was, then, in the jargon of the trade, they are “playing things down”. And do we not love the great masters all the more for acting all humble and down-to-earth?

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It remains a universal truth: the apparently simple is the most complex to conceive. Many different steps are involved in the initial ­process of creation, even more are required to sustain it. The Hollmann Beletage has such an air of effortlessness about it, breathes so much relaxed charm, that one cannot help but be affected by it, fight as one might. We all are the products of our environment and, as ­Goethe aptly put it, it makes a difference if one walks, day in, day out, under lofty birches or dark and towering oaks.

The Hollmann Beletage is a place of extra­ vagant, soulful beauty and thus in perfect sync with the times. And even if the following has become almost a cliché when used in connection with the Hollmann Beletage, it is still dead-on: Here you feel as if you’re staying with a couple of rich friends at their downtown loft apartment.

Social Layout: Yuspies, biz people, international celebrities.

Charisma: Beautiful like Liz Taylor, cool like Robert Mitchum or John Malkovich.

Hotel Lamée

Rotenturmstrasse 15 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 532 22 40 Mail booking@hotellamee.com hotellamee.com

During the late 1920s and the 1930s, ­V ienna was on the verge of becoming Europe’s very own version of Hollywood.

Hotel Lamée rekindles the glamour of this bygone era and presents itself as a luxurious tribute to the city’s grand cinematic past.

22 luxurious rooms and ten spectacular suites with a view of St. Stephen’s wrap their guests in an atmosphere full of glamour and grandezza. Generous depth, honey-coloured walls, warm lighting and playful, glossy Makassar panneling make for cosy, comfortable rooms. The house on Rotenturm-

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Willkommen im größten Auktionshaus in Kontinentaleuropa

600 Auktionen, 40 Sparten, 100 Experten, mehr als 300 Jahre Erfahrung Palais Dorotheum, Dorotheergasse 17, 1010 Wien Tel. +43-1-515 60-570, client.services@dorotheum.at www.dorotheum.com Dorotheum International Düsseldorf, München, Mailand, Rom, Brüssel, London, Paris, Prag, Tel Aviv

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strasse 15 was built in 1934/35, as a slender rising and cubically formed building in a very central location between Hoher Markt and Stephansplatz with its famous cathedral.

Upon its doorstep, guests find the city’s most famous museums and galleries, as well as legendary coffee houses and luxurious shops.

The Lamée is a modern interpretation of the grand hotel, combining a cosmopolitan atmosphere with a huge amount of Viennese charm. All suites come with a direct view of St. Stephen’s, but this spectacular sight is available for all guests: From its rooftop terrace on the 9th floor, the Lamée grants wonderful views of the city and its landmark.

Alas: This is CINERAMA AT ITS BEST and the drinks have enough star quality in their own right. In winter, the terrace hosts Vienna’s highest punch stall; in summer it provides holiday feeling galore.

Hotel Orient

Tiefer Graben 30 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 533 73 07 Mail kontakt@hotel-orient.at (booking requests via telephone only) hotel-orient.at

The Orient Hotel is hardly a place for longterm guests. Not because the hygienic or aesthetic conditions have one want to escape quickly. Quite the contrary. But the Orient is a house dedicated to human desire, to love; and because it is also so very, very Viennese, it must be called one of the most original love hotels ever.

At the Orient, discretion is a matter of course.

Heinz Rüdiger Schimanko, hotel manager and a big name in the local red light scene, sees to that. However, some guests have gone cognito, and wouldn’t it be a shame if they hadn’t: Emperor Franz Joseph is said to have been among them, some essential scenes of the The

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Third Man were shot here, and Ernst Molden chose the Orient to write his novel Die Krokodilsdame – to give but a few examples.

And so, for a short while, couples escape from reality, and they do so in rooms with inspiring names: The Thousand And One Nights, Angel and Devil, The Emperor’s Suite … A bad break for curious observers: The photos published by the hotel show only small sections of the rooms. And yet, wouldn’t everything else be an insult to our power of imagination?

Radisson Blu Style Hotel, Vienna

Herrengasse 12 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 22 78 00 Mail info.style.vienna@radissonsas.com stylehotel.at

This here has elements of Wolfgang Joop, of Ralph Lauren, of Tom Ford by all means. The bar area could have been taken from a millionaire’s modern chalet in St. Moritz. The place is so cleverly done that it comes across all cosy and homely, despite it being a public sphere and a very “done” one indeed. The designs assembled here have one think of Italy, more precise of Milan and its Cathedrals of The Tasteful Interior. In short, the Radisson Blu Style Hotel tastes like the latest and hottest in noodle dishes at Fabios, sounds like a music mix by Paul Kalkbrenner and looks like a graphic design by Fritz ­Zaunrieth.

Nestled against the city centre, the hotel is close, or rather just around the corner of the exciting and sexy Kohlmarkt boulevard, and opposite to the world-famous Café Central.

All 78 rooms and suites come with their own individual design. The modern and very ­popular Italian gourmet restaurant offers excellent food in a buoyant setting.

Charisma: Design hotel, contemporary, fashionable.

üder r b e G e : di links). chert ö K (ganz g n a g f l sin Wo en Juweliere u r otherst). o r r C e b H r e h i h n t e : he lef enwert Florian und t r chert h n e o ö ( K e i g D ph und wellers sin Wolfgan o e t j s i n r a h C gentlemnd their cou e l b a r nou an a The ho ph and Flori Christo Hotels HipVienna 167

Hotel Sacher Wien Philharmonikerstrasse 4 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 51 45 68 42 sacher.com

Germany’s renowned and perhaps best ­daily newspaper, the Süddeutsche, once wrote: “This hotel is so Viennese that one cannot but ask: What came first, the Sacher or Vienna?” Yes, our German friends notice things which we obviously no longer see. After all, Oscar Wilde also stated that “before Turner, there hadn’t been fog in London”.

Who has won the largest number of Oscars?

Who? No other than Katherine Hepburn.

Four times best actress in a leading role, twelve times nominated as such. Hotel Sacher in Vienna has a lot in common with Hollywood’s grand old lady: Wisdom, beauty, precisement ... Let’s say, this is the hotel’s feminine side. And the masculine?

Sir Anthony Hopkins: superior and highly independent in character, absolutely unique. What is more: Once you’ve checked in at the Sacher, there is no need to ever leave it again: At the Rote Bar, you will be served the best Tafelspitz in town, at the Blaue Bar, local charm and elegant knowhow combine their forces, and it goes without saying that the place has a never-ending depot of Sacher-Torte in store. The guest book features such famous names as R ­ ainier III, Prince of Monaco, and his wife Gracia Patricia, Indira Gandhi, Queen Elizabeth II and John F. Kennedy.

Social Layout: State visitors and the world’s rich and powerful, celebrities.

Charima: Cathedral of luxury, its ­power based on familiarity and ­tradition. Vienna at its ultimate best!

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Hotel Topazz

Lichtensteg 3 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 532 22 50 Mail booking@hoteltopazz.com hoteltopazz.com

The Topazz is a place for looking out. For “normal” windows, i.e. rectangular ones, you will search in vain. What we encounter here are portholes (sometimes referred to as “bull’s eyes”) which come complete with integrated settees. All eyes on Vienna. Be that as it may, we still urge you to venture outside. You won’t have to go far though – everything you could possibly want is right at the doorstep. A prime city-centre location, as the real estate guys would say. The architecture combines historical features with modern design, while the building technique is innovative and relies on ecological building materials. From the furniture to the sheets – all natural, all organic.

Guests entering the lobby actually step into the Salon – which looks a lot like that of a privately owned townhouse. Sitting on the deep couches, they while away and let their day pass in review. The place breathes the comfort of a 5* hotel, combined with the intimacy of a small house.

All staff members are extremely motivated, warm and friendly. They issue very special insider’s tipps and treat each guest like a V.I.P., ease the life of frequent travellers, know where to dine, where to shop and where to walk off the beaten tourist tracks.

As a result, guests of the Topazz soon feel as if they belong here – in this hotel, and in this city.

In the afternoons, tea, coffee, wine and snacks are served at the Salon –a free treat for hotel guests, part of the Privileged Club Service. Vienna for connaisseurs!

Places Stores

Amicis

Tuchlauben: Men & Women Seilerstätte 11: Outlet 1010 Wien Phone +43 1 513 26 36 Mail office@amicis.at amicis.at

THE LUXURY MULTI-BRAND STORES AMICIS offer an exclusive range of readyto-wear fashion, accessories, shoes and bags by the world’s most coveted designer labels for both women and men.

At the designer multi-brand stores AMICIS you find the latest collections of ultra hip designers like Tom Ford, Alexander McQueen, Stella McCartney, Lanvin, Dior, Balmain, Balenciaga, Givenchy, Valentino, Saint ­Laurent Paris, Isabel Marant, Peter Pilotto, Dsquared and Alexander Wang, as well as creations by contemporary designers and jeanswear by Helmut Lang, Victoria Beckham Denim, T by Alexander Wang, ACNE, Zadig et Voltaire, and JBrand, complemented by the latest in shoes by such famous manufacturers as Jimmy Choo, Giuseppe Zanotti, ­Sergio Rossi and Chloé.

Located in Tuchlauben, Vienna’s most luxurious fashion boulevard, AMICIS is undoubtedly one of the city’s premium fashion ­hotspots. The combination of stylish shop architecture and the competence and knowhow of a first-class sales team are characteristic for the easy luxury atmosphere provided by the AMICIS stores – Vienna’s first address for shopping international first lines.

Another essential part of the AMICIS universe is the AMICIS Outlet. Right in the heart of the city, in Seilerstätte 11, fashion addicts of both sexes can dive into “the best of the rest”: two floors dedicated to d­ esigner collections from previous seasons.

Bomm & Semler

Weihburggasse 21/1 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 890 27 38 Mail werkstatt@bomm-semler.at bomm-semler.at

Vienna is rich in well-established, traditio­ nal jewellers. Not exactly ideal for young start-ups that still need to make a name for themselves, still need to find their proper place in the World Of Bling. On a good way, or rather more than halfway there, are the two goldsmiths Sabine Bomm and Maxi Semler. Specialisation is their magic word, and Bomm & Semler specialise in innovative, individual creations. Their impressive love of detail is key to the process. Prices start at 95 euros, but can rise as high as 10,000; each commission starts with extensive talks that allow the designers as well as their customers to define the requirements; the result is a very personal piece of jewellery. The company, still a team of two, keeps in firm control of all production stages, from purchasing the stones (from a handful of selected ­traders) to the design and presentation of the pieces. Their very own collection is produced on site, and not in a separate room somewhere at the back: the studio is integrated in the shop, customers can witness the genesis of each individual piece. Apart from specialising in bespoke jewellery, Bomm & Semler also do repairs and adaptations.

Palais Dorotheum

Dorotheergasse 17 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 515 60 0 Mail kundendienst@dorotheum.at dorotheum.com

The Americans have Tiffany, the Austrians have the Dorotheum. Although there is much more to be found here than just jewellery: Central Europe’s largest auction house for

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the arts presents not only noble metal and precious stones with a lot of history attached, but also valuable paintings, furniture, porcelain, historical weapons, stamps and books.

Here, best bidders will not obtain soulless objects; most pieces come with a spectacular past. One cannot help but wonder: Whose feet have stepped on that carpet made around 1860? Which events have been witnessed by this wall cupboard from the late renaissance? And a piece of jewellery from a late celebrity’s estate has its own special aura indeed. For better overview, all coming auctions are meticulously listed. And for those who simply cannot get enough: there are daily auctions as well. Some items come with a reasonable price indeed, others fetch enormous sums. One, two, three – me! Or something along these lines.

If you’d rather take a good look first, we recommend the Dorotheum Café, where you can enjoy not just coffee and cake, but also watch the auctions via live broadcast.

HotSpring

Palais Helfert Parkring 18 1010 Vienna Phone +43 699 11 72 57 85, Mr Götz Phone +43 699 10 79 76 60, Mr Beck

The really hot trend right now? Private wellness, I would say. Means that you have all the essentials at home and there’s no need to bother with wellness hotels. If nothing else, these essentials include a whirlpool.

Some people expect even more, want to improve their health; for them, muscle relaxation and a daily massage in the privacy of their own home is a perfect alternative to the otherwise necessary pilgrimage to a thermal spa or other professional institution.

But is this really a modern day phenomenon? Many advanced civilizations had their

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own characteristic ways of turning a bath into a social event; the bath houses in Ancient Rome were notorious for their social significance, a fact that has provided material for many a big screen or TV movie; and even today, serious topics are discussed, as well as important decisions taken, in the baths of Russia (banja), the Arabic world (hammam) and Japan (onsen).

So, what’s the underlying secret? The warm water that softly wraps the body has us drop our defenses. We let our hair down, both physically and mentally. It is an environment that eases us into another mode, triggers a different kind of communication.

Some psychologists would even claim that bathing triggers warm and cosy memories from our time in the womb.

Families using their tub together find new ways of talking to each other; relationships may enter a new stage. The constant disruptions caused by entertainment gadgets and mobile phones finally end here.

The HotSpring team takes pride in having the world‘s best-selling hot tubs on offer.

Colours, shapes and silhouettes create a classic, timeless elegance – as well as long-lasting quality: quite frequently, customers use their tub for more than 15 years. Among the many USPs, there is the DX Dual Massage technology that has a unique moving jet deliver two powerful streams of warm water; while they sweep up and down the length of your back, you’ll experience a one-of-a-kind massage similar to what the powerful hands of an experienced masseur can do.

The innovative salt water system uses a diamond electrode to create a powerful oxidizer and chlorine sanitizer that keep your spa water sparkling clean. Each drop of water runs through a cleaning process that is as uncompromising as it is noiseless. Many of Austria’s

Carefully Created.

Mindfully Made.

Ausgewählte Wiener betriebe und kulturinstitutionen, deren produkte und leistungen höchsten Qualitätskriterien und Fertigungsstandards entsprechen finden Sie unter dem gütezeichen Wien products. / Selected Viennese enterprises and cultural institutions, whose products and services satisfy the highest quality criteria and manufacturing standards, are identified with the Wien Products mark of quality.

WIEN PRODUCTS SERvICE CENTER / Stubenring 8-10 / A-1010 Wien / tel +43 1 514 50 1517 / WienproductS@WkW.At / WWW.WienproductS.At / Wien products ist ein projekt der Wirtschaftskammer Wien. /Wien Products is a project by the Vienna Chamber of Commerce and industry.

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world-class athletes trust in HotSpring, as is demonstrated by various photographs of mana­ging director Alexander Bösl with the likes of Hermann Maier and Klaus Kröll.

A. E. Köchert Jewellers

Kare

Let’s assume you are a male choir from Carinthia. You consist of eleven deep and welltuned voices. At Christmas, you want to give yourself an adequate present. If I were you, I would troop in at A.E. Köchert Jewellers and order eleven pairs of cuff links made of a sophisticated quartz and white gold mix. Perfect with each kind of traditional gear, best with a Carinthian jacket. This cuff link group dynamics works in all parts of the Köchert realm: mother-of-pearl and tsavorite if you are a rowing club from Oxford and want to have this subtly mirrored by your dress uniforms. Or you are Marcel Koller’s soccer team and about to win the next European football championship. In this case, we recommend no-nonsense silver for 190 euros. No need to flaunt it ever again ...

With regard to craftsmanship, Köchert Jewellers have long established themselves at the top of their trade. In the long history of the house, there have been frequent collaborations with artists and creative minds, among them Susanne Lippitsch, Boris Podrecca and the late Hans Hollein. The company, known for its premium designs ever since 1814, gained international fame with the so-called Sisi stars. Empress Elizabeth of Austria aka Sisi owned a set of 27 stars decorated with pearls and diamonds made by Köchert Jewellers, purveyors to the court. And stars of this kind are still produced. Very innovative: for Köchert ­Jewellers, designer Sebastian Menschhorn has designed a collection of rings and bracelets evolving round the theme of in the beginning there was love. The material is gold, the words are taken from the bible.

Mariahilfer Strasse 5 1060 Vienna Phone +43 1 585 62 11 Mail cityhaus@kare-design.at kare-design.com

“Not your typical shop, but showcase interiors, staged as in a theatre, that inspire the creativity and burst with life” – this is, in a nutshell, the credo of KARE owners Jürgen Reiter and Peter Schönhofen. Another of their convincing slogans is “More taste than money”, a concept powered by innovation, individuality and the perfect price-performance ratio. KARE does away with boring off-the-peg interiors and offers exactly the right choice for a design- and cost-oriented clientele with one main objective: to pimp their living rooms and thus the world they live in. Today there is a vast number of KARE stores spread around the globe, there are company-owned design lines and producers in more than 60 countries; yet when it all began, in Munich in the early 1980s, there was little more to show than a makeshift shop selling cheap shelving to students.

But no matter how far they have come, the KAREans are still full of ideas: Each year, 1,500 new items help to create exciting interiors full of surprises. And who, you may ask, are the typical KARE customers? They are a cosmopolitan, tolerant, spontaneous, humorous and trend-conscious lot – and a bit crazy, too. In the most positive sense of the word of course.

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Neuer Markt 15 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 512 58 28 koechert.at

Oh yes, and before I forget: The metaphor used at the beginning does not work for the following: a) Greek folklorists and b) fashion punks. The former wear shirts with very wide flowing sleeves, while the latter wear no shirts at all. They could, however, use the cuff links as piercings.

with Mother Nature; the latter’s cornucopia of stunning effects is carefully staged, subtle changes in colour add an individual touch to even the plainest piece of land.

By the way: Visiting Lederleitner is always a treat, even for those without demand (or a garden).

Lederleitner

Le dix-neuf

oman Market Hall, Vienna Stock R Exchange Schottenring 16 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 532 06 77 Mail wien@lederleitner.at lederleitner.at

Even selling flowers can be an exclusive affair, and nowhere is this more evident than at ­Lederleitner in the Roman-inspired market hall of the Vienna Stock Exchange. This is a far cry from the usual mundane flogging of greeneries; Lederleitner is all about noble ­flowers, tremendously beautiful wreaths and flower arrangements, and rare and exotic plants. The shop’s a lofty green oasis right in the heart of the city, and there is literally no upper limit for what one can spend. Yet the Lederleitner range includes not only the finest specimens of botany, but also elegant garden furniture. On 200 square metres, the boutique presents the Italian furniture collection Unopiú, famous for re-interpreting ­traditional materials like teak and stainless steel and thus creating outdoor islands full of homeliness.

If you want to take things further towards decadence, we recommend a waterfall cum fish pond. Or how about going straight for a swimming pond? None of this projects should be started without professional help, and Lederleitner is undoubtedly the best address for that. Naturally, this includes the green surroundings as well: The bottany experts maintain a sustained relationship

Seilergasse 19 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 890 63 66 ledixneuf.at

At the times of the Habsburg monarchy, Vienna used to be known as a city of perfumes – however, to wrap oneself in a coat of equisite scent has never gone out of fashion round here. And where to find the city’s best assortment of fragrances? We suggest Le dix-neuf, a heavenly refuge for fine noses feeling pestered by the cheap, generic products attributed to Lady Gaga, David Beckham and all the others. Here they will find the world’s rarest and most excellent scents. For five years, the small store has thrilled its customers with its rare collection, sampled at the best addresses, including the undisputed international masters of perfumery.

The list of brands reads like the guest list for the Oscar ceremony: Only the very best make it to Le dix-neuf. Amouage is one of them, a luxurious brand with its roots in the Orient. In a free translation, the name means “the waves created by emotion”, and indeed, this describes the scents perfectly.

Another example is Micallef from the French Côte d’Azur. Its precious fragrances are produced almost entirely without synthetic substances; the scents are bottled in the traditional way, i.e. manually, the artful flacons are also embellished by hand.

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Lobmeyr

Kärntner Strasse 26 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 512 05 08-88 Mail office@lobmeyr.at lobmeyr.at

“50th anniversary of the Lobmeyr Wedding List” – this statement features prominently on the website of this long-established, quintessential Austrian company. And it does not fail to impress. The whole setup breathes quality; it stands for the extraordinary, the truly important things in life. And so do the product descriptions, e.g. for the various fine drinking sets: “...first mouthblown, then cut, engraved and polished by hand, every single item is handled with the care of at least 18 hands during production. Many details are taken into consideration for the perfect ­balance of shape and function.” This is SO turning every glass into a work of art.

What else is there to be had at Lobmeyr?

Emblamatic designs from early Viennese Modernity (a candy dish by Oswald Haerdtl, goblets by Josef Hoffmann, the famous staircut bowl), Biedermeier tumblers, flower vases or, and it won’t get any better than this: “pieces that have been created from raw glass by our best engravers in a many months long, painstakingly detailed process. Various Lobmeyr designs have been added to the ­collections of the world’s most famous museums.” We rest our case.

Meinl am Graben

Graben 19 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 532 33 34 Mail office@meinlamgraben.at meinlamgraben.at

If you had to turn the Vienna P­ hilharmonic into a food store – this is what you would end up with. If Meinl am Graben no longer

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existed, Vienna might get away with a culinary heart attack, but not without a bypass (Neuer Markt); life would go on, but its quality would somehow be diminished. The official name of Vienna’s epicentre of taste is Julius Meinl am Graben, and it is a synthesis of all the culinary arts one can think of, the alpha and omega for the country’s gourmets and epicures. Spread out over three floors are the finest delicatessen from all over the world, displayed against the backdrop of a unique setting filled with tremendous atmosphere. The experience would not be complete without the creaking stairs leading up to the first floor; you’ll mount them full of anticipation, eager to explore its goods, each of them refined, mixed and seasoned to perfection, the final evolutionary stage in God’s Creation Plan. The delicatessen assortment includes more than 16,000 culinary creation myths, among them 400 cheeses, the finest chocolates, caviar and truffles, the most sought-after Bordeaux wines and much, much more.

Optic Opera

Opernring 4 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 513 44 75-0 Mail opticopera@a1.net

This stylish store has many stories to tell.

Firstly, it sells the largest number of Tom Ford glasses in the whole of Austria. Secondly, musical star Uwe Kröger, a declared fan of Mr Ford’s designs, happened to lose an older pair. Thirdly, Ming Chan, the owner of Optic Opera and a lady with both a vision and networking skills, somehow managed to rustle it up via her Asia connection.

Naturally, what we are talking here is just the type of sunglasses and not the very specimen that Mr Kröger had lost. What else?

Optic Opera stands for internationality, a

ROTENTURMSTRASSE 15 • 1010 WIEN • ÖSTERREICH T +43 1 532 22 40 • F +43 1 532 22 40 499 • E BOOKING@HOTELLAMEE.COM WWW.HOTELLAMEE.COM

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vast selection (optical spectacles as well as sunglasses and contact lenses) and perfect service. The staff speaks many different languages, i.e. visitors from all parts of the world will be competently advised in their respective mother tongues. Another plus: the shop is situated next to the famous opera house. Other available brands include Dior, Armani, Gucci, Lindberg, Starck, Chanel, Tod’s, Cartier, Ray Ban and Silhouette.

Peak Performance

Mariahilfer Strasse 55 1060 Vienna Phone +43 1 585 61 18 Mail peak.vienna@peakperformance.com peakperformance.com

Three skiing instructors meet in a small Swedish village. No, we are not trying to sell a hearty joke. In point of fact, this is how it all began: the three gentlemen shared a vision; they wanted to combine functional clothing with simple yet attractive designs.

Back then, in the mid-1980s, a rare thing indeed. And the first chapter of a tremendous success story: their first shop opened in the Swedish town of Are, today there is a great number of stores spread all over the world. One of them can be found in ­Vienna’s Mariahilfer Strasse, where shoppers are welcomed by a very friendly and highly competent team. We admit: this kind of quality does not come cheap, but the trendy and high-quality sportswear is affordable still.

What is more, each purchase comes with a free can of Red Bull. And if the garments manage to keep the people in Northern ­Sweden warm, they will surely do nicely for our neck of the woods.

Outdoor sports like running, golfing, climbing, cycling, hiking, snowboarding and ­skiing are the core competencies of Peak Performance. Yet there is also a trendy ­Casual

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Collection which represents the company credo: Be adventurous, free and independent, love life and remember to enjoy the here and now. This is convincing indeed and has us go and instantly book our next trip. How convenient that Peak Performance also sells trolleys, backpacks and messenger bags ...

SPAR Convenience Store Babenbergerstrasse 9 1010 Wien spar.at

SPAR Food in the City: At the Convenience Store in Babenbergerstrasse we encounter something very modern, something totally in line with the vibes of a pulsating metropolis. The Food in the City shop concept invests the catchphrase local supply with new meaning: On offer are fresh snacks and menus to be eaten on site or taken away, but also essential products for our daily use. The way we do our grocery shopping is changing rapidly, and new ideas and concepts are required. Local supply in urban areas is facing new challenges – quality and individuality, light, yet delicious products, as well as quick and precise service are the order of the day. SPAR Food in the City is so much more than just an inner-city supermarket.

Innovation leader SPAR has its finger on the (business) pulse: to go for a quick lunch, to have a coffee and at the same time to do the daily shopping. This concept responds to the tempo of a modern, vibrant city and creates an atmosphere that has us draw inspiration from the displayed products, has us take a break and enjoy our choice.

Apart from daily changing hot lunches and soups, there are cold snacks, high-vitamin vegetable or fruit salads available from the attractively arranged deli counter. Another novelty: All dishes can be eaten on site in the comfortable seating areas, as well as being

taken away. For all those with a sweet tooth there are delicious desserts and cakes as well as a wide selection of coffee specialities – also to stay or to go. In addition to the comprehensive take-away assortment, SPAR Convenience Store also offers essential goods for everyday life. High in quality, healthy, urban.

Vivienne Westwood Store Tuchlauben 12 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 503 74 51 viviennewestwood.co.uk

Vivienne Westwood is an institution, the leading representative of Fashion Made in England. And although the lady with the bright orange hair refuses to be pigeon-holed as Queen of Punk any longer, her designs are still the urban rebel’s preferred uniform.

Her Vienna store opened in September 2012, filling a much-lamented vacancy. And indeed, a local branch makes a lot of sense – not least because Westwood’s husband is Austrian. Fans of the designer can now not only buy her clothes, but also her scents at the home front. Smells like Westwood, a must for fashionistas – even more so since her new perfume Cheeky Alice (yes, exactly, THE Alice known from Wonderland) is available at the Vienna store only.

However, the iridiscent Westwood world is still very much centered around clothes: On 240 square metres, the boutique presents all collections of womanswear from Westwood – Anglomania to Red Label to Gold Label, as well as the new Red Carpet range. Difficult times for the piggy bank ... An added bonus is the Made to Measure service, otherwise only available at the London headquarters. If one can afford it, the couture dress is ­tailored to the body. And the personnel at the Viennese shop is good – after all, it did its training in London, on Ms Westwood’s personal request.

Woka Lamps

Singerstrasse 16 1010 Wien Phone +43 1 513 29 12 Mail mail@woka.com woka.com

Sure, you can also simply have a bulb hanging from the ceiling. Does the job, can be changed easily if the need arises. But, let’s be honest: You might put up camp at a flat, but it can hardly be called a home until the lamps are up. And we admit: Finding the right lamp can be difficult indeed. The process is a lot like dancing the quickstep: one step into one shop, the next into another.

No, thanks, not what I was looking for.

One thing you should know before you enter Woka Lamps in Singerstrasse: When talking to the owner, a gentleman called Wolfgang Karolinski, do not let on that Picasso was the founder of cubism. (Analytical cubism, developed by Picasso and Braque from 1907 onwards, analysed objects by means of certain basic forms.)Because Mr ­Karolinski is undoubtedly going to tell you that Josef Hoffmann used to practice cubism already in 1903, and that he did so in ­Vienna. And he is right about that.

So, let’s move on to some facts: At Woka Lamps you can find handcrafted reproductions of exclusive lamps created by designers and architects in the early 20th century.

The products are of premium quality and meticulously modelled on the originals.

This elaborate process involves machines, punching dies, lathe tools and other indispensable equipment from the factories which produced the lamps originally, themselves m ­ odel examples of the kind of entrepreneur- and craftsmanship typical for the Austrian-Hungarian monarchy. The materials are as special as is every single detail: 1. The glass is Triplex flashed glass. All

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lampshades are mouth-blown, smaller inclusions and ­bubbles may occur. 2. The basic material is brass, the surface is polished and stove-enamelled or nickel-plated.

The castings are individually handcrafted.

Should they feature tiny or reasonably small inclusions, this is best attributed to their uniqueness. Spots might result from the so-called “sweating” of brass after it has been coated; alas, not a lack of quality either, but a characteristic feature of massive brass. Spots of this kind cannot be removed since this would also do away with the coating. 3. Nickel has a warm, silvery surface with a tendency to get tarnished and to aquire a yellowish hue. Over time, this will have the lamps look like the originals. Nickel is soft and easily scratched; for cleaning and polishing, experts recommend impregnated polishing wool.

cafe bars

Blaue Bar Sacher Philharmonikerstrasse 4 1010 Vienna Phone +41 51 45 68 42 sacher.com

All you ever longed for is to keep sitting here and watch yourself grow old. Accompanied by a really good friend, half a bottle of really good brandy and an overdose of Nina Simone’s Feeling Good and Rebekka Bakken’s Daylight Is Short To Fall.

The need to talk about it all (Natalie Cole, Tell Me About It) – here you won’t escape it. Following the Zeit columnist Wolfram Siebeck’s fourth commandment “You must not shun elegance”, there will always be elegant people at the Blaue Bar, even if

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they do not wear ties. Elegance is a lifestyle that develops from within. Upon a first visit, some are a little frightened to enter this place; that’s absolutely ok, and just an every­day joe’s panic attack. Grin and bear it ...

Something else: At the Rote Bar, situated more or less south-east of the Blaue Bar, guests can enjoy not just the Wiener Salonbeuschel (a traditional Viennese dish of innards), but are also in for a real treat: s­ lices of boiled marrow, salted and served on dark toasted bread ... this is ideally accompanied

by Al Jarreau’s Cold Duck.

Social Layout: International AlphaCommunity.

Charisma: Sacher is a globally ­acknowledged brand.

Café Bar Bloom

Rotenturmstrasse 15 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 532 22 44 Mail reservierung@cafebarbloom.com cafebarbloom.com

Unrestricted views, open-mindedness, to see and to be seen – Café Bar Bloom is a paragon of urban lifestyle, while at the same time interpreting the legendary Viennese hospitality in a new and modern way. This is also apparent when looking at the Bloom’s two-storey interior. The first floor is dominated by a loungy atmosphere, the ground floor hosts a bustling bar that comes with a view of the street – and provides insights from there.

The culinary offer is built around small yet fine delicacies (the use of regional and seasonal products is par for the course) accompanied by big and fine wines. A large selection of beers is also available, and those who prefer cocktails and longdrinks won’t be ­dissapointed either.

One of the house’s non-alcoholic USPs is its broad tea assortment; concept developer and CEO Christiane Weissenborn recommends White Elder Tea: served perfectly steeped and a real adventure for the taste buds.

Should all this drinking leave you hungry: guests can choose from a tasty range of sandwiches, made with crispy and delicious bread courtesy of Viennas’ legendary baker Joseph, as well as wonderful tarteletts made by the Bloom’s own patisseuse Rebecca.

Our top recommendation: the roof terrace on the 9th floor offers the best possible view of the city – in winter it features a punch stall, in summer holiday feeling galore.

Café Drechsler

Linke Wienzeile 22/Girardigasse 1 1060 Vienna Phone +43 1 581 20 44 Mail office@cafedrechsler.at cafedrechsler.at

Should the Bourbon & Beefsteak in Sydney ever be equipped with a dubbing voice from Vienna, the part would, as sure as hell, go to Café Drechsler. The café’s social layout at 4 am in the morning could not be any more diverse, and is more or less the visualisation of a Harri Stojka track featuring on the second Café Drechsler album Late Check-out: Inconsistent City ...

Here you will always find at least two perfect representatives of every social strata, artists, models, night owls and barflys, the last remnants of company celebrations, best friends whose shopping tour has got a bit out of hand, husbands turned out by their wives, ornate courtesans, extreme mountaineers and disputatious intellectuals on their quest for solutions and/or dissolution. What else? Non-stop availability of warm meals, a broad selection of national and international newspapers and mag-

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azines, free WLAN. A careful renovation

by Conran & Partners has turned Café Drechsler into the paragon of a modernday Viennese coffee house. The venue’s solid authenticity is underlined by local coffee blends and wine (the Viennese standards Grüner Veltliner and Blaufränkisch) being sold over the counter. If you have no idea what Vienna is like, come at 1 am. You are sure to get one.

Social layout: From alpha to zeta.

Charisma: Melting pot.

Eden Bar

Liliengasse 2 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 512 74 50 Mail office@edenbar.at edenbar.at

There is no other location so q­ uintessentially Viennese: For more than 100 years, people have come to The Eden Bar to celebrate – and to do so in style: for the male of the ­species, there is no entry without jacket and tie. Fortunately, these indicators of elegant masculinity can be borrowed on site.

And the guests it has welcomed ... from members of the highest aristocracy in imperial times to local composer and famous political mind Gerhard Bronner. The Eden has seen it all, and the country’s history is ubiquitous. And yet, discretion is a point of honour here. What makes this venue even more charming is its pronounced bizarreness. The waiter as chaperone, the singer crooning Italo hits with very little reserve, the gentlemen at the bar attending to the ladies. Yes, this is exactly how it should be, old school at its very, very best.

The clientele is not badly off, a small beer costs 10 euros, but you can also order champagne by the bottle for 1,200 euros. The snacks as well cover the full range from

r­ ather simple (a toast for 7 euros) to really decadent (goose liver paté on toast, 55 euros). It has been said that the Eden is among the ten best bars of the world. Fact is that the world’s most notorious socialites have all been here once, and often more than once. And yet, as the late owner H. W. Schimanko put it: “All decent people are welcome to me.”

Freyung 4

Freyung 4 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 535 34 35 Mail contact@freyung4.at freyung4.at

Munich, Berlin and Dusseldorf were the first to do it: In these famous German party towns, the borders between the ­gastronomic categories of bar and restaurant are frequently blurred. Why offer only one if two can be done? Freyung 4 does not only follow this example, but extends it: warm summer nights can be enjoyed on the outdoor terrace, against the background of a DJ line up. At the bar, almost every day of the week is assigned a motto – there is soul food, soul drinks and soul music on Thursdays and a Sitting Room on Fridays, while those with a faible for house music should come on Saturdays from 10 pm onwards. The drinks list is huge and the cocktail selection, in particular, leaves hardly a wish unfulfilled.

Let’s go back a couple of hours and enter the Freyung 4 restaurant at lunch time: From Monday to Friday, guests can choose between two set menues (with either soup or dessert) for less than 10 euros, at Saturdays a special “after shopping lunch” is served. By the way, the restaurant also has motto days: Tuesday from 6 pm is Meat Day, with regular barbecue specials. However, vegetarians are also welcome!

Hammond Bar

Taborstrasse 33 / Grosse Pfarrgasse 30 1020 Vienna Phone +43 1 968 92 15 Mail office@hammondbar.at hammondbar.at

Dim light, a wide selection of drinks and a host (padrone Gottfried Pertot) who stands for, as well as behind his bar – the Hammond Bar is wonderfully old school. This is where Vienna blends with “Bella Italia”. The snacks in particular come with a Mediterranean touch, besides being utterly delicious. Not a bad ouverture for sampling the many classic and trendy drinks served here. The offer is extensive, the bartenders know their job and support the undecided in choosing wisely.

The interior is as urban as it is individual and draws members of all age groups.

What else, apart from the drinks assortment, is essential for a bar? Exactly, the music.

Here the preferences are soul, jazz, house, chill-out tunes or the real classics.

The opening hours are ideal for a kind of socialising that does not start in the middle of the night: From Monday to Friday, the Hammond opens at 5 pm, on Saturdays and Sundays at 7 pm. Apart from the classic ­Happy Hour (Monday to Friday 5 to 7 pm, Saturday and Sunday 7 to 8.30 pm, all cocktails for 4,5 euros), there is also the Late Night Hour (Sunday to Thursday from midnight to 1 am, Friday and Saturday 1 to 2 am, all cocktails for 5,50 euros). After all these ­happy hours, you want nothing but go home and sleep? No problem: there’s a taxi stand on Taborstrasse just around the corner.

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Jeder Tag wird Ihr perfekter Tag.

Bei Sonnenschein oder unter klarem Sternenhimmel.

office@whirlpools.at | www.whirlpools.at | +43 7246 80246

Im Sommer und im Winter.

Zeitlos edle Whirlpools von der weltweiten Nummer Eins.

GUNSKIRCHEN WIEN VÖSENDORF SALZBURG GRAZ DORNBIRN

4623, Nelkenstraße 12 1010, Parkring 18 2334, Blaue Lagune Haus 101 5020, Hellbrunnerstraße 9 8401, Kalsdorf, Max-Mell-Gasse 1 6850, Färbergasse 15

Café Korb

Brandstätte 9 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 533 72 15 cafekorb.at

According to Elfriede Jelinek, it is like this: Those who have been to the Korb once, will always come again ... And why should we question the lady’s judgement, after all it was her who translated Thomas Pynchon into German. As for Pynchon himself, he might, for all we know, be one of the Korb’s regulars, but certainty there is none, since nobody has the faintest idea what modern literature’s most elusive phantom looks like.

In 2002, Susi Widl, owner of Café Korb, introduced the so called Art Lounge in the basement and allowed local art heroes Peter Weibel, Peter Kogler, Manfred Wolff-­ Plottegg and Günter Brus to run riot. There is widespread agreement that it was Manfred Wolff-Plottegg who took the cake when, after a pipe burst in 2004, he redesigned the toilets. The result of his artistic endeavour are doors made of frosted glass with not exactly self-explanatory pictograms; ,I, and () represent the male and female genitals.

Not an easy decision for protagonists of the unisex movement. Anyway, there’s no harm in a joke, and this is so much better than an online stunt of Hare and Hounds.

A must at the Korb: home-made apple strudel and/or bread with butter and chives and/ or both and/or one after the other. What else?

Café Korb can look back on a history of more than one hundred years, its rise began at the time of the Habsburg monarchy, in the heyday of Vienna’s coffeehouse culture. The ­festive opening on March 26, 1904, was attended by no other than Emperor Franz Joseph himself, and this historical dimension has remained evident until today. However, the walls are decorated with paintings by

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Oswald Oberhuber, Dieter Roth and Arnulf Rainer, a fact that bears witness to the Korb’s truly contemporary spirit. Plus: White cloth on the tables, international daily and weekly newspapers, and fashion/lifestyle magazines in a variety hard to come by these days.

Social Layout: Intellectuals and ­creative workers.

Charisma: Iconic coffeehouse with a lot of patina.

restaurants

Cantinetta Antinori Jasomirgottstrasse 3-5 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 533 77 22 cantinetta-antinori.it

Forgive us, but we have to start with a warning: Make sure to avoid the warm chocolate cake, avoid it by all means; otherwise you will never again get it out of your system, it’ll be a case of love at first bite. A risk you are glad to take? Well, here are the facts: Italian institution with bistro atmosphere, the kitchen maintains the cherished traditions of Tuscany. The wine list presents the whole goodies palette of the Antinori Empire. That’s one of the things you ought to know. If we say that kitchen and cellar are both prime league players we’re stating the obvious. However, I must recommend the home-made cappellacci, filled with ricotta and served with thyme butter, as well as the saddle of lamb with rosemary, sage and green beans. Apart from such addictive examples of culinary artistry: The waiters here are so on top of things, both physically and mentally. A real challenge for the guest. Another USP: kitchen’s open every day from 11 am to 11 pm. Grazie, tante grazie! And, dear friends, something else: The heavy Antinori wines (Solaia, Tignanello) are perfect for ­creating an MM situation with your female vis-àvis: for a short while at least, you will pass as the young Marcello Mastroianni.

Social layout: Premier league biz, art swells and alphas.

Charisma: Italian cinema at its most, La dolce vita, warm chocolate cake.

DO & CO Albertina Albertinaplatz 1 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 532 96 69 doco.com

What we are facing here are a) very delicious tapas, and b) huge prints of works by Egon Schiele. Our back is to the Albertina, while our eyes rest on the grand interior heavy on the dark brown marble ... but wasn’t there something else? Ah! We rejoice in the above mentioned tapas, very good indeed, but also in a red chicken curry with thai rice, ham pasta or unfailingly good scrambled eggs with seed oil. The tortes are courtesy of the Demel patisserie (it cannot get any more Viennese than that), and the wine list is a first league player. Even on days with little sun, the tall windows give way to enough lux to freshen up the soul.

Social layout: Art swells and wellto-do bobo tourists from the US and Japan.

Charisma: The smart younger sister of society girl DO&CO Haas Haus. Actually the prettier and more intelligent one of the two.

St. Ellas Bistro Bar Grill Zieglergasse 52 1070 Vienna Phone +43 1 522 20 84 stellas.at

The well-established art and creative scene of 1070 Vienna, or Boboville, has finally got its very own watering hole. In 2012, fuelled by the success of their restaurant Gaumenspiel, Martina Kraler and Rodschel Rachnaev opened the bistro/bar/grill enterprise St. Ellas. What one encounters here is, firstly, soul and esprit, and secondly, a tight, nononsense calculation model which results in an unbelievable price-performance ratio.

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And, for example, in an octopus salad with fennel, a decent affair in every respect, for a mere 5.50 euros. However, the restaurant’s unquestionable USP are the steaks in their many variations, plus the sauces accompanying them, plus the compilation of the people at the bar and the group dynamics at the tables, which include celebrities from the music fraction like Peter Kruder, the ­gallery fraction like Peter Coeln (Galerie WestLicht) and the advertising fraction like Peter Hörlezeder (Jung von Matt). In other words, it is bloody comfy and relaxed here, and if one didn’t issue a rather strict marching order to oneself, one would never make it home. The musical concept, by the way, is by extreme ski racer and surfer Marc Moosleitner. The guy kind of knows his stuff, says DJ Samir Köck. And if a man who knows his stuff praises another for knowing his, we are talking good stuff, no doubt. The St. Ellas sends its soulful vibes via various frequences. Many thanks!

Social layout: Intellectuals, bobos, creative workers and artists.

Charisma: Steaks, red wine and Doctor Feelgood.

Fabios

Tuchlauben 6 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 532 22 22 fabios.at

All those who tried to copy it have fallen hopelessly by the wayside. The Fabios remains one of the hippest destinations on the local hedonist’s hub. It attracts those who have an above-average exposure to money, as well as those who possess an above-average amount of money. And, ladies and gentlemen, this in turn cannot fail but draw all those who have to manage, above and below average, with very little

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money indeed … Sharing a watering hole with the high and mighty simply makes you feel so much better. And for many years, the Fabios has dressed, and very successfully so, as the hippest watering hole in town. However, the people here are rather relaxed. That the cooking is excellent is a matter of course; the waiters are among the city’s very best. The bar at the front is ideal for lazing about and fishing the latest news from the bonfire of vanities. Plus: Fabio ­Giacobello has managed to give his bar a new look: friendlier, lighter, more energetic. Breakfast is now also available.

And, dear friends, is frightfully delicious.

Social Layout: Alpha people, celebs, woopies, yuppies, scuppies.

Charisma: Wallstreet 2, the moneymaking blockbuster.

Flatschers

Kaiserstrasse 113-115 1070 Vienna Phone +43 1 523 42 68 Mail office@flatschers.at flatschers.at

In Vienna’s gastro scene, owner Andreas Flatscher is a well-known man. His first restaurant, called Die Wäscherei (The Laundry), is still remembered as a huge success. At some point however, Andreas Flatscher felt the need to travel. During his journeys, he visited the world’s best steak houses, and soon an idea was born: to offer the very best meat in a casual, yet stylish setting. Add good wines and exclusive beers, and you have the Flatschers. It assembles the whole world of beef under one roof – from burgers and thick steaks à la Americaine (prepared on the lava stone grill) to carefully barbecued king prawns which take the ­diner on a culinary trip to France.

The extensive menu offers a small introduc-

tion to the steak universe. No need for beginners to be afraid, since there are “four steps to heaven”: rare, medium rare, medium and – although this is frowned upon by true addicts – well done.

You want to bring the Wild West to your dining table at home? For this, the Flatschers has introduced its steak-away concept. The meaty treats are weighed, portioned and cut as desired, then vacuum-packed; on the next day they are fit for being taken away. A free beer is also part of the deal. Yihaaaa!

Be that as it may, we still recommend to dine at the restaurant and enjoy its special atmosphere. From June to August, you should try the outdoor beer garden; some call it the city’s most beautiful.

Gaumenspiel

Zieglergasse 54 1070 Vienna Phone +43 1 526 11 08 gaumenspiel.at

Let’s assume you need to dine with each of your senses separately: this would be the place to go. Want a sample? Octopus carpaccio with lime, the wooden floor made of chestnut, the bobo ladies … What else?

Modern regionalism, a touch of the Mediterranean and artful combinations are typical for the culinary offer, which is as uncomplicated as it is playful. On the wine list, well-known names are coupled with less familiar ones. Prices are pleasantly moderate, the kitchen serves what was promised by the interior. The noodles are home-made and the main dishes freshly prepared. The menu varies according to the seasons; it is small, but fine, and there are always additional offers of the day.

Social Layout: Bobos, creative workers and architects, digital boheme, the media set.

Charisma: This is like a film by Wim Wenders: modern, complex, with the future in mind.

Hollmann Salon Grashofgasse 3 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 961 19 60-40 hollmann-salon.at

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to ­Hollmann Salon. Everything you see here has been created by highly ingenious and intelligent people for equally ingenious and intelligent people. Needless to say that at the Hollmann Salon, the daily business in kitchen and service is carried out with the highest degree of ingenuity and intelligence. The result: a modern interpretation of traditional ­Austrian cuisine, the very best organic ­products from the Waldviertel and a warmhearted, competent staff.

Social layout: Aesthetes, yuppies, digital boheme, the art set, hotel guests.

Charisma: Intelligent and ingenious at all frontiers – a lot like L.A. Confidential.

Nascha’s

Petersplatz 11 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 925 56 36 naschas.at

Nascha’s stands for Nataljya Scharapowa, a truly elegant lady. Following a trend from the world’s really big metropolises, dining takes place in a club atmosphere. The Nascha’s is certainly THE fancy restaurant in Vienna’s inner city, let’s say, THE new sensation in 2013. The wallpapers are rather refreshing, there’re elements of the latest Louis Vuitton bag designs detectable. The interior as a whole is rather extravagant – or hip, as we call it.

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As the law of attraction would have it, there’s always a lot of aesthetes hanging around. In its short history, the Nascha’s has already become a favourite venue for the cool city set, and it is only fair to say that the local hedonists have also succumbed to its charms.

Naturally, the concept, a fusion of bistro, coffeehouse, restaurant and shop selling expensive jewellery, cannot but produce a hotspot.

Now, when one turns to the software, what does one see? A fomer pillar of the DO&CO empire, the unique and unmistakable Tarik Canakli. His signature style is an international cuisine with a French as well as an Asian twist, salads, oriental dishes, baguettes, bagels and beef t­artare. This is complemented by sweet stuff from everywhere, even Georgia.

The Asian carpaccio comes across all light and airy, but the real USP is the Nascha’s Burger made of finest beef. A recommendation!

What we encounter here is a dynamic and creative team, all of which have worked in one or the other of the city’s best restaurants before. The skills and the intuition of the kitchen brigade are water- as well as bulletproof; Lobster bisque, baked egg with ­lemon cream and trout caviar – as safe as houses. And this applies to the cooking just as much as to the winning manner, in which the creations are served.

What one also encounters here is a comprehensive prosecco and champagne selection.

The Nascha’s has not been around all that long, yet thanks to its charm and perfect craftsmanship, it has already earned its place among the city’s best.

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Patara Restaurant

Petersplatz 1 1010 Vienna Phone +43 1 997 19 38 Mail reservation@patara.at patara.at

Those who cannot, or would not, afford holidays in Bangkok, can still enjoy their som tam, coconut soup or spring rolls – words of stunning shrewdness, recently puplished in a magazine from Boorsville. As we have already remarked a couple of years back, when the Vienna restaurant was opened: Finally, this city has its very own high-end Asian/Thai restaurant, and time it was. What the Blue Elephant is to upperclass Paris, the Patara, by now a celebrated institution, is to the Viennese. The first Patara restaurant opened in 1990; today, its authentic Thai cusine is served at only eight carefully selected locations all around the world. Whatever leaves the local Patara kitchen is, without exception, up to the highest standards; the quality of the fish in particular is extraordinary. The wine list is more than remarkable, last but not least because it focusses on wines from Vienna.

Bottom line: A truly exquisite Thai place.

After dining here you will feel extremely well – another proof that only the very best products are used. End of message.

Social layout: Business class, inner city set, woopies, lohas.

Charisma: Bangkok de luxe.

Skopik & Lohn Leopoldsgasse 17 1020 Vienna Phone +43 1 219 89 77 skopikundlohn.at

David Lynch has an unforgettable face.

Horst Scheuer has an unforgettable face.

David Lynch has left a distinct mark in film history; like no other, he is known for creating a unique atmosphere, dense and full of mystic. Horst Scheuer’s impact on ­Vienna’s gastronomic scene is no less unique and also characterised by its denseness and rather wild mysticism. It has been frequently stated that the two gentlemen Lynch and Scheuer both possess a rather whacky, if brilliant mind. It has also been frequently s­ tated that the latter expresses his brilliant whackiness via the flashy, graffiti-covered ceiling that spans his restaurant, his Scheuerville (aka Skopik & Lohn). Guests will relish the refinement of details (paper bags used as lampions); the regulars, who belong to the city’s artistic and intellectual set, love this place because it makes them feel as if they belong to a world-wide network, as if they’re part of something that could be at home everywhere, or, rather, everywhere where history is in the making. Balzac once said that there were only three categories of ­people who felt at home everywhere: courtisans, thieves and kings ... And I’d say that the Skopik & Lohn befits new royalty, those with a sound mind and universal understanding, even if the convulutions of their brains are as whacky as those of David Lynch and Horst Scheuer.

What else? Skopik & Lohn offers a puristic, classic Viennese cuisine with a creative twist.

Short and painless, reliably good. Its steak and fries or beef tatare have long become iconic. Recommended by the country’s leading gourmet critics like ­Christian Grünwald,

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the place is usually rather c­ rowded, so make sure to book in advance. It is, no doubt, one of the most exciting hip ­places in Vienna. As we have mentioned before, the padrone is rather unique: He not only pretends to be the head waiter, but also works as such.

Understatement is his second name.

Social layout: Intellectuals, bobos, creative workers and artists.

Charisma: Refinement and a love for detail, just as a David Lynch movie.

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5

klausvonoesterreich

hip journey

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Zen Or The Art To Drive A Lexus IS300h

Klaus von Oesterreich is talking to his car.

With the Lexus you could effortlessly extend Henry Miller’s famous trilogy – Sexus (1949), Plexus (1953) and Nexus (1960) – to become a literary foresome. But, dear friends, the name Lexus is a trademark and owned by a Japanese company and/or gentleman: Toyota, named after compony founder Sakichi Toyoda. And indeed, the company’s original name was Toyoda, but was changed later on, since the Japanese take a somewhat toughened stance when it comes to the letter “T”. Totally fine by us, and for the mushy variant there’s always the French to fall back on (I draaiive se laahchsuuhs J). When using Katakana characters, the name Toyoda is represented by eight strokes, and in Asia, eight is a lucky number. I am reluctant to act the university lecturer here, but as far as the company subsidiary is concerned, it seems as if there was much less inspiration drawn from metaphysics: Lexus means “Luxury Export to the United States”, no more, no less. And to be honest, given the times we’re living in, this is definitely much more refreshing than any beating about the Japanese maple bush.

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While I am cruising south with my purring Lexus IS300h, I suddenly realise, with utmost clarity: This car is somehow connected to zen buddhism, it calms you down, is not hysterical, but very, very sure in everything it does – superior is the word that comes to mind. And this has little to do with its enormous scope: 1,200 kilometres, electric motor, gasoline engine, hybrid. Perhaps this car is for those who have a more complex thought processor installed, who do no longer think like in the old days, feel no need to compare themselves with others, to bargain with the universe, to justify what they are doing. They eat, they buy something to wear, they drive – without repentance or excuses.

Inside the IS300h you feel as if you’re sitting in a better world. You cannot help but think that you are one of the good guys, one of those who care, promote sustainability, one of those who have reached a higher level of awareness. And yes, it is as hip as ever to have an attitude, to wear your personality on your sleeve, to commit yourself to a cause (or at least an idiosyncrasy). In the past, you demonstrated what made you tick by simply buckling on a Rolex, a GMT Master or a Submariner. Water under the bridge. These days, you and your planet are in it together, intertwined in an infinite loop. You and good old Mother Earth are on the same journey. Klaus von Oesterreich, his Lexus IS300h and Mother Earth are in unison, members of the same choir. Via their different pitches they create a wonderful title song for the latest blockbuster called “Sustainability”. In any case, dear friends, this is a vehicle to propose to; this is no mere one night stand with a bird that you parade in front of your local round just to never call her again afterwards, because, let’s face it, the bird is a trophy stunt, because you believe that it is neither you nor her, but only your friends that count, and your friends expect you to drive up with a blond showboat; must be a software bug, a Trojan that they infiltrated you with early on, perhaps in highschool. Sad but true.

While I’m driving, the mighty flood of complex thoughts that is my constant ­companion ebbs away a little. All noise has gone, I do not even hear my tinnitus any longer, it has all been gated out. The only sound is the steady purring of the 2.5 litre R4 engine (max. torque: 221 Nm @ 4200rpm) and eMotor (300 Nm).

In Rinzai Zen, the mystic experience of enlightenment is often an abrupt one.

Suddenly you are being sponged by a kind of universal oneness, are written into a moment that has the self dematerialise, has it disappear completely. I am having such a moment right now: everything unites with me, and I become united with everything. And all those who doubt that a hightech machine like the Lexus can project them into universal unity, all those who are sure that a machine cannot

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Entgeltliche Einschaltung

KULTUR MIT SONNE DRIN LÄSST EIN GANZES LAND ZUM F E S T I VA L D E R K U N S T W E R D E N . www.burgenland.info

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transcend metaphysical laws, have either watched Terminator I not often enough or have, as children, never communicated with an electric toy car, from man to machine, if I may put it this way. Or, as the Russian-born writer and scientist Isaac Asimov has already laid out in the 1950s: Respect the machine and be careful not to harm it.

Zen philosophy, on the other hand, claims the following: “To study the way means to study the self, to study the self means to forget the self. To forget oneself means to become one with all existence.” And all existence definitely includes this beautiful, almost noise-free, unostentatious car. I am smitten indeed.

Zen practice deliberately excludes all aspects that have to do with envy or greed or such outdated formulae as “thrifty is nifty” or “I don’t give nothing away for free”. How small and marginal is the man who never gives anything away for free?

But, in obvious contrast to the Lexus, our Mister New Age here, some cars do actually attract people who love to shift down, to wallow in the mire populated by lower frequences – the very same people who build their whole existence upon averice, greed and envy.

There is a certain kind of car that used to be cool once – in the times when its owner, although sitting in the back, maintained something more than just a master-servant relationship with the other man sitting in the front, indeed enjoyed something similar to a man-to-man-friendship with him; and yes, this honourable car went through a tough phase in the noughties, when it was occupied and desecrated by a bunch of disreputable egomaniacs. There was no way to prevent this, just as Majorca was unabled to prevent that a magnificent beach was stormed by low life, by lesser frequences that inevitably combined with the undiscriminated exchange of sexual partners and the unfiltered consumption of cheap booze. The noughties, what a back number, and thank God we don’t live there anymore.

Anyway. it is sometimes said that zen has “nothing” to offer: no theory, no hidden secret, certainly no answers. It is all about living the life – in all its richness, the whole nine yards. But all too often, the rationality of the human mind blocks us from accessing simplicity – it seems as if the voice of our thoughts, this constant stream of persisting ideas and judgmental conceptions, gets always in the way. Zen can end this confusion – one starts to eat when one is hungry, and to drive a car when one feels like driving a car. Just like that. Zen is not transcendent by design.

It has no higher aim.

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Enough of that! Mister Lexus here is purring his way along the A2 motorway. The design of the determined, cool front is as idiosyncratic as a suit by Yohji ­Yamamoto and confronts the air drag as unflinchingly as Noriaki Kasai. The seating is excellent, the instruments including the sport mode-only tachometer are really cool.

For the driver, the IS300h is real good fun. The combination of 2.5 litre R4 engine (with a max. torque of 221 Nm at 4200-5400 rpm) and e-motor (300 Nm) results in 223 HP. The IS300h kicks in massively, straightens up, reaches 100 km/h in 8.3 seconds (max. speed is 200 km/h) – and, dear friends, it does all this really quietly.

Two simple silver buttons, yet they make all the difference: No other car but the Lexus allows you to switch stations and adjust the volume in such a wonderfully old-fashioned and yet cool, gentle and precise way. This is how it must feel when you lay hands on the combination lock of a Swiss bank vault. What is more, the IS300h features the kind of noble shock absorption that one has learned to expect from Toyota’s luxury branch.

However, even the fact that this car turns every journey into the ultimate reward, does not change my original plan: to go to Reiters Supreme, a fine piece of country­ side coming straight from God’s very own Creation Plan.

Having arrived, I behave like the zen master I still need to become; I do this because I know that the thoughts form the sword. Alas, here I am, standing in the grass next to my Lexus and addressing it: Thanks for having me, thanks for letting me drive you. Peace. And the machine smiles at me.

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LEXUS. m e in e s it pricht m s h ic e r r e Oest Klaus von hat viel zu sagen.

LEXUS. is r h e r e h t it z t w Le talking is h ic e r r e Oest .

Klaus vonr has a lot to say The latte Burgenland HipVienna 205

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The perfect Weekend Whenever the ordinary simply won’t do.

Leopold von Ungarn

I have arrived at the Reiters Supreme a day earlier, naturally I want to prepare myself for Kristin, I have the feeling that the lady requires a lot, if not utmost attention. At the Reiters Reserve, a unique example of a recreation resort, a wondrous terrain taken straight from God’s Creation Plan, I am overcome by the picturesque. And suddenly I regret my choice of profession – had I become a painter, I would now be able to see the landscape with different eyes, with the eyes of Leonardo da Vinci when he was looking at the Arno in 1473, or with the eyes of Caspar David Friedrich, the early romanticist from Germany, when he marvelled at the surroundings of Dresden in all their metaphysical transcendence. Or so it seems when one is at home in these megalomaniac bric-a-brac fantasies, as Klaus von Oesterreich undoubtedly is. Besides, as far as Caspar David Friedrich is concerned, his hours of blissful perception must have been much later than 1473, in

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1800 or 1820 I reckon. And then again, what are 350 years to a hill in Southern Burgenland? What indeed? Had I been blessed with the necessary talent, I would put up my easel right here, with this view of a grazing white albino donkey in front of me, would grip the brush and go for it. Leopold von Ungarn, by the way, recommends that I start to paint anyway; according to Leopold, anyone who has a way with words will also find a way among brushes and paint. Because a creative talent can be chanelled in various ways, and the creative mind will always face an ocean of unmanageable possibilities. Whether this ocean consists of words, sounds, colours or numbers, is of no significance. Yes, Leopold von Ungarn is a funny chap indeed.

White albino donkey, these words alone sound poetic to me. And if you encounter a white albino donkey on a pasture, and you do so at ear level, things become even more poetic. Although the sounds issued by this wonderful creature are far less poetic than archaic – or, let’s say, very grounded and down-to-earth.

They remind me of the audio my mother used to transmit, after she had found herself confronted with one of my school tests, usually graded as “middling” to “unsatisfactory”.

The donkey’s pitch also has me associate a tenor suffering from a post-traumatic vocal change, or José Carreras after a tonsillectomy, or Placido Domingo with a hefty angina. I must get its bray into my iPhone. I kid you not, it sounds as if a vocal chord is about to burst. O.k., this is not so unlike Mick Jagger, although from a man with a face like a heavy-trafficked potato field you’d expect little else.

But from this fluffy white creature, courtesy of the universal master track? Life never seizes to amaze me.

Leopold von Ungarn has explained to me, and wasn’t he insistent about it, that donkeys are as clever as they are good-natured. Their apparent stubborness has nothing to do with them being stupid, in fact, it is stupid to believe that it has; the donkey, as it is, is a careful thinker and good at assessing risky situations. And unlike horses, donkeys do not react by letting their escape reflex getting the better of them, but rather stay put and give the whole thing a fair amount of thought.

The donkey is a loyal companion, it has a straightforward character and jog-trots through life with quite some courage. And: donkeys like to establish contact with other creatures. In fact, Leopold von Ungarn calls donkeys the most sociable ­mammals walking this earth. And what Leopold von Ungarn does not know about animals is not worth knowing.

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There is a rather well-defined limit that ejects a weekend trip from the realm known as The Bearable Lightness Of Being: This limit is defined as a maximum radius of 150 kilometres, and therefore any spin that takes you from Vienna to Linz or Graz must, sadly, be subsumed as an overkill. Burgenland, on the other hand, is ideally placed, and Leopold von Ungarn is the ideal travel companion. He is blessed with an unfailing radar for veracity; the man cannot be fooled, he sees through the acting, the sugarcoating, the dressing of lambs as muttons. Neither wool over his eyes nor lipstick on the pig will do. But here at the excellent, many-times awarded and truly soulful Reiters Supremehotel there is no need for acting skills anyway, because everything is so authentic: the character, the ideology, the food.

Ok, some come for the terrific steaks and the Elysian golf course, some come for the spa which is unrivalled in size, concept and charisma, and for the spacious nude area also matchless in Austria, for the shaolin monks and, naturally, for the terrific steaks, others come for the undisputedly trouble-free, radiationfree and error-free jogging routes nearby, for example through the Lichtenwald forest, some, again, come for the general atmosphere at the restaurant, for the interplay between masterly cooking and the good vibes that are issued by the kitchen brigade and brim over into the top-quality food, in a quantum dynamics that can be tasted with every bite, but, naturally, also for the extraordinary steaks, some come for the staff, an ensemble of highly idiosyncratic personalities that fuel our belief that this place provides great opportunities for personal evolvement, and who, as the in-crowd so to speak, perform their tasks with grafeful humbleness and utter commitment, and because of the aforementioned steaks, some come to mix with the other guests, because everybody here gives in to the house’s elegant vibes, starts feeling at home, feels as if taken good care of, understands that everything is in everything, and, mind you, they also serve a really good steak here.

Ok, end of message. And don’t be misled, it is not the steaks alone that take the center stage in this colourful culinary parable, this rainbow composed of organicdynamic diversity.

Since you caught me talking about guests: Right now I observe a couple, not because I’m a voyeur, but because the two are so beautiful to look at. Each of their movements is as fragile as a calligraphic stroke, you simply cannot keep your eyes from them, not if you are a creative soul or just an aesthete. The two exquisite creatures are no other than the international ballet stars Olga Esina and Kirill

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Kourlaev, fellow guests at the Reiters. And I think, well, if the ­Champions League of physical discipline and elegance does not know how to move, who else will?

Some call it a cliché, but in my experience it is often actually true: Those gifted with great talent are also genuinely modest; when interacting with their s­ urroundings they are soulful, caring, loving.

Just as Karl Reiter here, and the saying “like master like man” was never more appropriate: All members of his team are of such well-balanced courtesy, such unfailing strength of character, bursting with obligingness and so authentic, so honest in everything they do.

So let me, in turn, be honest with you: You really must come and see all this with your own eyes. From Vienna, it takes you an hour and ten minutes to get here.

For the rest: reiters-hotels.com

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GENUSS MIT SONNE DRIN GIBT URLAUB EINE GANZ BESONDERE NOTE. www.burgenland-schmeckt.at

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aar: Die p m u a r T 端hne ein d Olga Esina B r e d f u a un Privat undrs Kirill Kourlaev iters Supreme.

Ballettsta der Traube im Re ballet : e l p u o c dinieren in t e a perfeca Esina are dining g a t s n o d Private an l Kourlaev and Olgupreme. stars Kirilaube at Reiters S at the Tr

Burgenland

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en im erbracht. b a h a ga Esin WEEKEND v l O d n rlaev u in PERFECT u o RFECT K E l P l i a Kir rgenland e t a spen n i s E S端dbu a and Olgurgenland. v e a l r B ou Kirill K ND in South WEEKE Burgenland HipVienna 215

A decent country outing: Gut Oggau If weekend’s a must, then I vote for a really flat one. And no, I don’t mean shallow. Flat. Austria’s wonderful Burgenland region. Endless views, unfathomable and utterly soothing. A beautiful country that is both bizarre and gentle to the soul.

Just like a holiday. Or rather, just like a holiday should be. Flat and wide and ever so calm. This is what the city refugee, hopelessly overwhelmed, ravaged and aggrieved by conurbation, seeks and finds here. In Burgenland.

As soon as I have left the city behind, my lungs open and I start to breathe. Good Lord, is it flat here. And the wonders it does. Especially when cycling is part of the weekend’s magic menue. Yes, cycling. The kind of movement that comes with fierce footwork attached and is any doctor’s recommendation to their 45+ patients.

OK, needs must, but let’s at least choose Burgenland with its modest inclines that won’t force even more stress onto the worn-out body.

Approx. 70 kilometres or 55 minutes later the land changes, slows down, becomes homelier, even more relaxed – and suddenly hip as well. Hip? Well, have a look, what

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do you see? A Porsche Cayenne next to a Range Rover, followed by an Audi S8 and a small yet fine Maserati which, for once, happily keeps in the background. It’s Oggau, a small Burgenland village, that attracts them – the hip set from the big city in need to descelerate their lives, as well as those of their extravagant statement ­coaches.

Here, the elite of the information age cheers inwardly while watching everything boil down to bangers and wine. This small hamlet, that for centuries hardly managed to make the occasional tractor stop off, has become a power station fuelling the bold and the beautiful. The hip and not so hip. The smart and stylish and, thank God, the average joes as well. Jimmy Choo walks contentedly next to a Zillertal costume, and Brioni does not feel slandered by Hugo Boss. This place is all about co-existence.

The farmer’s wife from the neighbouring village comes as a guest, not as a tourist attraction. At Gut Oggau, Stephanie Tscheppe-Eselböck and Edi Tscheppe make every­body feel good. Very good indeed.

And good feels the lady over there, the one looking through drop-shaped RayBans; every weekend has mutate her to Supermom, skilfully navigating her children through this idyllic setting, straight to the playground at the corner, where they are left to themselves for rather a while. Naturally, the nanny is always close by, ready to act the Robin should either mommy or child display the slightest sign of insecurity. Between the carefully contrived manor house flair, the noisy joy of children and 100 percent organic fare, all the bobos from Vienna, ever so molto simpatico, feel as happy as clams. At Gut Oggau, they take a well-deserved timeout. Relaxed, yet debonaire. Stephanie and Edi have managed to create a real Place To Be. An island of peace, a picturesque world in its own right that teaches the lesson of true wellbeing. Not even the toilets can be just toilets here – they are also the home of the farm sheep. From an olfactory point of view this is simply wonderful, it smells of land, of earth, of mother nature.

The solid tables with their wild, naturalistic surface draw urban high flyers down in no time; down to earth, to the ground of things. The bread is always fresh and served as if by magic; coarse salt and pepper are already at hand. Come on, take a bite! A perfect foretaste of the hearty culinary offer to follow: goat cheese from the Seewinkel sheep with pesto made of naturtium, lardo from the Mangalitza pig, sheep camembert with plum chutney. Ham from the world’s happiest pigs, olives from the oldest trees in Greece, peppers from carefully grown shrubs. Oh, and of course: wine. The wine of the house. Sampled by the world’s finest palates, highly decorated as a consequence. White, red, rosé. Here they make wine with both character and class; each has its own personality (and bears a Christian name).

What is more, all wines are biodynamic, the vinery has recently been certified with the Demeter quality label. That’s what we call world class. Santé!

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6.30 pm. Time to fix the position of the bivouac. Rust at Lake Neusiedl. Dorfmeistergasse 21. Pension Drahteselböck. Situated directly at the famous cycling track which leads around Lake Neusiedl and, thanks to its ferocious 127.2 kilometres, presents quite a challenge. The boarding-house is totally tuned to cycling.

A hip bike, with state of the art technology and almost going off on its own, is quickly organised. Bid your farewell to ugly, wobbly, annoying roof racks, and to the hauling of bikes. The Eselböcks make it all so easy. Off the peg, into the ­saddle.

Bed & Breakfast is the theme here. The rooms breathe urban chic that blends perfectly with the cosy rusticity around. Not too much style, but neither too little.

In the evening, I treat myself to a bottle of wine from the house’s own vinery. Well chilled of course. And then off to bed, and dreaming of pedals ...

Saturday. 8.11 am. The trumpets of the day guard. And here we are again, the breakfast buffet is so typical Eselböck. So utterly Eselböck. Everything is absolu­tely perfect, a bit of perfect simply wouldn’t do. With things being so carefully arranged, I start to think that even the grains of salt must each have a name. Oh, and the food: the most delicate organic ham, fresh fruits, crunchy vegetables, ­muesli for the serious athlete and scrambled eggs that are second to none. This copious meal is a real booster, strengthening my ambition to conquer the world by bike.

9.14 am. Leaving a table full of culinary delights behind, I jump into my (very dashing) bike shorts and mount the boneshaker. The landscape opens up in front of me. And has me instantly forget the more trying parts of my mundane existence. The tranquility surrounding me is unbelievable, unharmed, even by the other bikers along the way. However, in what feels like hours later, another component has added itself to the oneness of Bike, Man and Universe: that of pain. The calves burn. Indeedy. In fact, they are ablaze. Despite of a body well-trained, our friends down in the South are about to betray us. Time to slam the break and answer some urgent physical needs.

11.55 am. The break has ensured me: It’s time to change the scene. Alas, off the bike and onto the boat. Boat? Well, canoe. The man in charge here is somebody very special. Robert Posch from Mörbisch, 78 years old, blessed with boundless joie de vivre and overwhelming charisma. Alas, into the rickety thing and through the reed belt into a new world. The water puts an irresistible spell, only the lake’s well-known tendency towards shallowness has me stay calm. Very calm. More of an idyll is unthinkable. And even the calves enjoy themselves. The burning has turned into a steady throbbing, a plea to reason to take things easier. Therefore: canoeing. And then this task is also accomplished and I take myself back to civilisation. To Rust. Shopping.

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16.12 pm. Right in the centre of Rust, there’s two who have dressed up all organic. Richard and Beate have created their very own, small-yet-fine land of plenty, and it plays all the tunes from the region. Sausages from the Mangalitza pig, the stag and the wild boar, exotic treats like prune and olive lard, pepper and lime lard or spicy courgettes. A yet unknown taste of Burgenland is provided by elderberry compote, cassis figs or muscatel quinces. The shopping basket is full, so let’s go home. The bike wants its barn, the shower cries out for my body and my feet long for comfortable shoes. Peter Schandl’s Buschenschank is on the evening program.

The Viennese schnitzel here has even gourmets cry out in delight. Alas, a schnitzel, why not? But first there arrives a wonderful fish soup with root vegetables and pepper, followed by mini chili sausages with onion mustard. Blood sausage, a hearty pork and cabbage casserole, or the evergreen bacon-wrapped cream cheese: none of these are new, yet the taste makes all the difference. And the difference is huge.

While the delicious wines from the cellar provide perfect accompaniment. How the Pinot Blanc sneaks down the throat and makes it long for more! Food and wine: This is it, and not much space left at the top.

23.57 pm. To sleep. The Drahteselböck has adjusted its spokes and the bed’s ready.

I jump into a de-stressed world of endless dreams. At the end of this long and peaceful journey, there waits the Eselböck’s breakfast wonderland to take the ­dreamer back to reality. And nothing could be more to this dreamer’s taste!

Gut Oggau, Hauptstrasse 31, 7063 Oggau, Phone +43 664 206 92 98, gutoggau.com Stephanie Tscheppe-Eselböck and Edi Tscheppe have turned an old manor farm right in the heart of Burgenland into an avant-garde hot spot. Delicacies from the region and a great love of detail, the latter apparent in every corner of the house, have guests rejoice. Exquisite biodynamic wines revive the spirit and pay hommage to the zeitgeist. Salute!

Pension Drahteselböck, Dorfmeistergasse 21, 7071 Rust am See, Phone +43 26 85 301, drahteselboeck.com Relax and leave the bike at home. Owners Stephanie Tscheppe-Eselböck and Eduard Tscheppe provide their guests not only with the country’s fattest breakfast buffet, but also with its trendiest bikes. Book and set off!

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Direkt an der A4, Ausfahrt Neusiedl am See - Gewerbepark fashionoutletparndorf.com

Time-out from the city: Parndorf, Jois, Neusiedl am See Lake Neusiedl. Wide, diverse and full of secrets.

Some assign hypnotic power to the mighty inland lake that has always effortlessly linked nations, cultures and languages. A model example of common ground, a natural monument of unity. Just Europe, no more, no less. The lake calls and I follow, on the hunt for its Places To Be. Friday. 10.20 am. Less than half an hour’s drive from Vienna, while I negotiate my way on the A4 motorway, the Pannonia Tower comes into view. How it rises into the sky, mighty, stylish and trendy, all the way up to the Tower Lounge on the 14th floor; up there you’re confronted not just with an overwhelming view of the surrounding landscape, but also with profound insights into your own hidden depths. That is, if there are any. All the hip city people from Vienna like to come here and enjoy a glass or two against the backdrop of Burgenland’s serene tranquility. And when padrone Christian Künelt takes over at the turntables, you know that you are right there, right in the middle of things. Among those who call the

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shots, or will call them any time soon. One of the coolest callers ever is Leo ­Hillinger. The winemaker of winemakers. The best known among the local ones, and the most successful in turning wine into a trademark.

1.40 pm. Leo has invited us to his wine imperium. With his whites, he has taken the whole of Austria by storm. Chardonnnay, Grüner Veltliner or Pinot Grigio.

Not to forget his Sauvignon Blanc that has also hit off like the proverbial rocket.

Those who enter the Hillinger Showroom at Jois, are left with little doubt: here, things are done in a big way. It takes at least two hours to get a proper overview of the Hillinger world. And with a couple of samples from the vineries, time flies indeed. After yet another final round, the alcohol level leaves me with little choice and I have to hand myself over to the co-pilot who has luckily, or at least officially, stayed sober. In a situation like this, there is only one remedy: coffee. A Schärf, preferably. In The World Of The Brown Bean. Or: Schärf World – The Art of Coffee. I ask you: Who needs a Kopi Luwak, egested by cats, if a Schärf is available?

3.15 pm. At the coffee junkie’s paradise. From the bean to the machine, all here is Schärf (which translates as sharp, and how apt is that?). And then it arrives, the espresso doppio, causing fireworks of aroma and taste. What is more, it is so utterly and wonderfully sobering, perfect after the light tipsiness I have brought with me from the Hillinger Winery. Here one regains one’s usual sharp (again, and getting apter by the minute) eye for what is essential. At 5 pm, the Schärf show closes for the day, and I head back to the hotel, for a quick round of power napping.

7.30 pm. Well rested? No, but hungry! A stone’s throw away from the Pannonia Tower one falls over the best piece of meat in the whole of Burgenland. At the Steak-House, a restaurant with pronounced rustic flair. A bit reminiscent of yesteryear, when everything was just that little bit better. Either way, the country inn atmosphere heightens my appetite. For meat. Even more so because the meat is courtesy of beef paradise Argentina. Come to papa! The wonderfully marbled prime rib has the water rotate in the mouth and mount to a small tsunami that threatens to slop over the lips. I check myself. Well, no worries, ferocious appetite turns into joyful anticipation. The immense size of the Big Prime Rib with its 1,250 grams is less frightening if ordered for two, as the menu suggests. Well-fed and happy we return to the Tower. One last drink at the Tower Lounge, the eyes marvelling at the view of Burgenland at night, and then to give in. At least for today!

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Saturday. Parndorf. Right at the centre of its shopping paradise. The fashion stores lure with unbelievable prices. Those who think that this has only the lower classes attend, could not be any more wrong. A glance at the parking lot reveals ample hints of the well-endowed. Ferrari, Porsche and all the others wait here while their drivers let it rip. Who wouldn’t, it is top products coming at top prices. Those with money do not necessarily want to waste it, do they?

12.20 pm, fashion shopping accomplished. There’s just enough time left to drop in at Fischerei Oldenburg. The sensational fishes from Lake Neusiedl are sold here exclusively. Pike, carp and zander. Also worth sampling are other, home-made delicacies, smoked eel for example. At 1 pm the shop closes. The souvenir bag is full and it is time to think of oneself.

5 pm. Mole West. Yes, this is where they come off, all the ultra hip boat people cruising the lake with their elegant watercrafts. The game of life: Those unlucky enough to screw up the berthing manouvre will have the Oh Dear glances fixed on them, while those who curve in in a manner most elegant and nonchalantly hop off the boat, will take it all. The latter can be achieved by boat or car. The crowd is all generous about that, and the parking lot features the same amount of cool vehicles as the lake; what a way to showcase personal success. And then: the sunset. Pure kitsch, just as we like it. The lake is colour-coated by exclusive orange, quince yellow and gold. Soon the blend covers everything and everybody – faces, glasses, even the food. The latter, by the way, is in perfect harmony with the surroundings. Carpaccio from beef tenderloin with organic sheep cheese and orange filets, lemongrass soup with coconut milk and grilled prawns, venison roasted pink with mushroooms, rosemary risotto and port pear. And no, I declined the zander, although it is said to be sensational. No necessity to conform to all stereotypes.

Well-fed, happy, tired. Back to the Tower.

Sunday. 10.40 am. Departure. But hold on, wasn’t there something else? Oh yes, the one really big sin to be committed in Burgenland, the creamiest temptation since cake has been served in slices. I refuse to leave without it. Even the enormously high risk of falling for the drug fails to stop me, recklessness takes over and I steer the car in the direction of Landgasthaus Nyikospark. So much fuss because of a cream slice? Yes and – yes. One sin a week is budgeted for. What is more, even the bible says that god forgives those who forgive themselves. Gotcha!

Alas, no hard feelings and down with the creamy sin. By the way: This is by far not the only delicacy to be relished here. I’ll put it on the agenda for another weekend at beautiful Lake Neusiedl …

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11

klausvonoesterreich

guestlist

Achilles: hero of Greek mythology. His mother dipped him in the river of the underworld, Styx, making him invulnerable. Only the heel where she held him, remained vulnerable.

Al Hojari, Hougari: a certain Mister Incense from Oman.

Androsch, Hannes: very successful woopie.

Angerer, Matthias: visionary head of the Ost Klub in Vienna; a classic Lohas-Bobo.

Arx, Anoki von: beloved sister and opera singer with a frequency that reaches way out there and continues to resonate. Lives in Paris, London and Cyprus.

Asimov, Isaac: someone committed to the rights of robots: honour and protect your machines.

Bach, Johann Sebastian: 1685-1750, yes, the Baroque-composer. Supposedly autodidact in composition! Anyway, who would not know these: Saint Matthew Passion, Saint John ­Passion, Brandenburg Concertos or Christmas oratorio.

Way to go!

Bachmayer, Wolfgang: one of the leading pollsters of the country, not only in the eyes of the author.

Baich, Lidia: a native from St. Petersburg, playing the first violin here in Austria.

Baumgartner, Klaus: general manager of the TIAN-Group. The restaurants with the probably coolest lifestyle around at the moment.

Belayeva, Anastasia: former elite tennis player and Financial Controller from St. Petersburg.

Bellini, Vincenzo: 1801-1835, Italian opera composer. La sonnambula (The sleepwalker) was one of Bellini’s biggest triumphs and after its premiere in Milano soon performed all over Europe – also in New York.

Birnbaumer, Thomas: sports researcher and personal trainer (amongst others of Klaus von Oesterreich) www.thomasbirnbaumer.com.

Blank, Boris: Swiss musician; founded together with Carlos Perón the band Yello at the end

228 HipVienna guestlist

of the 1970s. Composer and creator of the ­typical Yello-sound.

Bomm, Sabine: experienced goldsmith from Germany. The female part of the inspired jewellery-manufactory Bomm & Semler.

Buchegger, Wolfgang: Mister PUMA and so much more. And with a darn good instinct for the finest mountain-speck.

Bunny, Bugs: cartoon-bunny. Appeared under this name in the shape known today for the first time in the Warner Brothers Looney Tunes ­Cartoon film Patient Porky in 1940.

Bukowski, Charles: 1920-1994, US-American poet and writer with Polish-German origins.

His style is according to the Literatur-Brockhaus: “Rough, witty stories, novels and poems about the life on the margins of the American middle class society. Shock-effect through representation of brutal violence, obscene sexuality and dirty street life.”

Callender, Sandra: Green Party politician; writes journalistically and poems.

Canakli, Tarik: success-gastronomist. The captain of the hip restaurant Nascha’s in Vienna 1010.

Celibidache, Sergiu: 1912-1996, Rumanian director and musical maestro, having studied next to music also philosophy and mathematics. He developed a phenomenology of music and tried to bring his students to adopt an ‘egofree’ way of playing.

Cluizel, Michel: Parisian Chocolatier. And the darn best one there indeed.

Coeln, Peter: visionary head of the Galerie WestLicht in Vienna 1070.

Corti, Severin: editor of the STANDARD and culinary expert.

Daie, Arash: creator and owner of the hippest multi-brand-store in town. He is the paragon of entrepreneurship. Reminds of Tom Ford. de Mena, Pedro: Spanish artist (1628-1688).

Delane, Kevin: there are several of this name.

But this one is one of the UNGOOGLEABLES.

Delon, Alain: French film star. The cold angel of death in Jean Pierre Melville’s Le Samouraï became his trade-mark. In the good as in the bad sense.

Depardieu, Gérard: French actor and entrepreneur.

Descartes, René: French philosopher, mathematician and scientist.

Djavan, Dr. Bob: internationally renowned urologist.

Dobo, Michi: head of the Vienna shopping malls.

Dogudan, Attila: creator of Do & Co. A global entrepreneur. End of announcement.

Dostoyewsky, Fyodor Mikhailovich: 1821-1881, Russian writer. Got to know life in all its facets – a must-read.

Druschel, Viktoria: PR strategist from Düsseldorf, a model-German in word and image (darn attractive).

Ellis, Bret Easton: US-American writer. His novel American Psycho was banned in Germany from 1995 to 2001 due to the detailed descriptions of excessive violence and sex. Film adaptation of American Psycho in 2000.

Engstler, Robert: CEO of Bentley, Lamborghini und Bugatti Austria. In London they roll out the red carpet for him. Sells proportionally the most Bentleys in Austria.

Esina, Olga: world star of the Ballet St. Petersburg. Prima Ballerina and testimonial of HIP VIENNA. Fälbl, Christoph: makes pretty good cabaret.

Can cook pretty well. Nutella-pancakes. He is like a psycho-therapy. The more you deal with him, the better you feel. Model cabaret artist with high testosterone-rate (4.2%).

Fankhauser, Hermann: male part of the globally renowned Vienna fashion designers Wendy & Jim.

Feldenkrais, Moshé: 1904-1984, physician and Judo-teacher (first European black belt).

He founded the Feldenkrais-method under the motto Consciousness through Movement (Bewusst­heit durch Bewegung).

Fellner, Franz: great composer from AttnangPuchheim. Virtuoso in mandolin-matters. franz-fellner.com.

Ferlitsch, Priv.-Doz. Dr. Arnulf: doctor specialised on inner medicine, gastroenterology and hepatology; head medic at the University Clinic for Inner Medicine III at the University Vienna.

Ford, Tom: you cannot be more en vogue. At Amicis in the inner city.

Forstinger, Verena: director of the Style Hotel Vienna.

Foster Wallace, David: 1962-2008, USAmerican writer. His novel Infinite Jest was translated to German only late, due to its complexity. Ranging in difficulty about on the level of James Joyce or Thomas Pynchon.

Franzen, Jonathan: US-American writer, whose novel The Corrections won amongst other distinctions the National Book Award.

Friese, Peter: head of the Schwarzes Kameel.

Fine like his work.

Fuchs, Andrea: GM of the new Philippe-StarckHotel Sans Souci in the Vienna Burggasse.

Furtwängler, Wilhelm: German director and composer.

Garaudy, Celine: director of the French Chamber of Commerce.

Gasser, Walli: a part of the management team of the Kleinsasserhof.

Giacobello, Fabio: an Italian obviously. One of the most renowned gastronomists in Vienna, owner of the fabulous Fabios in the Vienna Tuchlauben.

Giordano, Massimo: star tenor at the Vienna State Opera and testimonial of HIP VIENNA.

guestlist HipVienna 229

Gironcoli, Bruno: Austrian contemporary artist.

Gödel, Kurt: 1906-1978, Austrian-American mathematician and one of the most important logicians of the 20th century.

Grinberg, Avi: former therapist and healer, today teacher and author. Founder of the ­Grinberg-method that is mainly based on selfhealing energies.

Grünwald, Christian: editor of A la Carte.

Hack, Philipp: one of the “young and wild” winemakers from Southern Styria.

Häupl, Michael: well, that is one of these guys, an icon of style, that is. Or who else could have made the moustache this fashionable? Only our beloved Vienna Mayor, so we think.

Hanner, Heinz: culinary visionary.

Hauser, Maria Elisabeth: junior chef at the Organic-Hotel Stanglwirt.

Heidegger, Martin: 1889-1976, German ­philosopher in the phenomenological tradition (following Edmund Husserl) and the philo­ sophy of being. His first main work Being and Time dates from 1927.

Heisenberg, Werner: 1901-1976, physician and Nobel Prize winner. The Heisenberg uncertainty principle revolutionised the physical view of the world of the 20th century. It states that important physical measurement categories such as place and impulse cannot be measured precisely at the same time.

Hilger, Ernst: one of the most renowned gallery owners in Vienna.

Hinterseer, Hansi: Austrian pop singer, actor and former ski racer.

Hirst, Damien: contemporary British artist; Winner of the Turner Prize. Exposed at the Tate Modern in London, amongst others, in 2012.

Ho, Martin: star entrepreneur in gastronomy, media and art. Head of the scene-cathedral DOTS and its satellites. Smart guy and en vogue.

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Ho, Stefan: general manager at the fine Thairestaurant Patara. Exquisite.

Hofbauer, Peter: director of the Vienna Metropol.

Hofer, Verena: marketing manager of the Art History Museum in Vienna.

Hohenlohe, Hubertus: ski racer, musician, photographer, cosmopolitan. Jet-set-figure with Austrian, Liechtensteinian and Mexican citizenship.

Holzer, Fanny: general manager of the 25 Hours Hotel.

Hong, Nuit La: fashion designer with showroom in Kärntner Strasse. Vietnamese roots.

Horx, Matthias: German trend- and future researcher as well as writer.

Ikrath, Ike: architect and head of the hotel Miramonte in Bad Gastein.

Jagerhofer, Hannes: creator of Check Felix.

Creator of beach-volleyball in Austria.

Jamasinikov, Vasily: he is Russian, in any case. One of the ungoogleables.

Kaiblinger, Siegfried: gallery owner in ­Vienna. Represents amongst others artists such as Helnwein.

Kail, Regina: model, moderator and journalist with Carinthian original power.

Kalcher, Manfred: GM of the Thermen-­ Luxus-Spa-Villen Geinberg5. Well-travelled ­gentleman of world standard.

Karajan, Arabel: musician, lives in Sofia.

Karajan, Herbert von: Austrian conductor.

One of the most well-known and most important orchestra directors of the 20 th century.

Karajan worked with many renowned symphony orchestras, at the most important opera houses, and published numerous recordings of classical music. He also arranged the hymn of the European Union.

Kaubek, Udo: director of the legendary treasure chest Meinl am Graben.

Köchert, A.E.: 1824-1879, actually Alexander Emanuel Köchert, created in his function as court jeweller of the Habsburg Empire and goldsmith the well-known Sisi-stars and received together with the architect Theophil von Hansen the Gold Medal at the Vienna World Exhibition in 1873.

Köstler, Ludwig: head of the Vinothek St. Stephan in Vienna 1010. A wonderful tour of the world in matters of wine and spirits.

Konopatsch, Jakob: director at T&F Trade and Finance. In case someone wants to settle business-wise in Central Asia, this is the place!

Konzett, Philipp: gallery owner from Graz in Vienna. Represents Brus, Roth, Eisenberger, Muehl, Nitsch, Polanszky, Rainer, Schilling.

Kosian, Prim. Dr. Kurt: medical specialist in gynecology and midwifery.

Kourlaev, Kirill: first soloist at the Vienna State Opera and born in Moscow. A world star.

Kraus-Winkler, Susanne: sophisticated CEO of the Loisium-Group.

Krinzinger, Ursula: Austrian gallery owner and art trader. She is a lobbyist for contemporary art and promotes the avant-garde of the 1960s and 1970s.

Layr, Emanuel: gallery owner with artists such as Franz Amann, Julien Bismuth, Andy Boot, Plamen Dejanoff, Marius Engh, Stano Filko, Benjamin Hirte, Lisa Holzer.

Lexus: car brand from Japan: Luxury expert for the U.S. Lillo, Don de: US-American contemporary author. Considered alongside Thomas Pynchon one of the most important post-modernists or one of the most important contemporary American writers generally.

Lobmeyr, Familie: Austrian family devoted to the creation of glass for six generations by now.

Having been the court purveyor of the Habsburg Empire, they provided amongst other things the central lustre in the Vienna State Opera.

Locatin, Marco: Austrian news journalist (head editor for FORMAT) and author for HIP VIENNA. Lürzer, Gerhard: legendary hotelier. Right and left hand of Harry and Heribert Lürzer.

Lürzer, Harry: legendary hotelier. Right and left hand of Gerhard and Heribert Lürzer.

Lürzer, Heribert: legendary hotelier. Right and left hand of Gerhard and Harry Lürzer.

Machiavelli, Niccolò: Italian politician, diplomat, philosopher, historiographer and poet.

Magdalena, Maria: disciple of Jesus Christ.

Manganelli, Roberta: head of the model agency Stella.

Mauroner, Mario: gallery owner in the ­centre of Vienna. Represents stars such as ­Herbert Brandl.

McCartney, Stella: British fashion designer.

Daughter of Linda and Paul McCartney.

McQueen, Alexander: (1969-2010), British fashion designer. Well-known as “enfant terrible” of the British fashion scene for his opulent, eccentric creations and wild if not scandalous fashion shows.

Minar, Ernst: editor and owner of the successful fitness-cathedrals John Harris.

Mitterer, Johannes: director of the hotel Zur Tenne in Kitzbühel.

Mokesch, Günter: artist, pop singer and quite a decent businessman on top of it. Send me Roses.

Moo-Won, Prof. Dr. Park: professor for neurology, reflex therapy, TCM and acupuncture at various universities in China, Korea and Russia. Also lecturer at the Austrian Medical Science Society for Acupuncture.

Moosleitner, Mark: researcher in musicology and adrenaline athlete.

Moser, Dr. Veith: Austrian medical specialist for plastic, aesthetic and reconstructive surgery as well as for hand surgery. Member of the FMH Schweiz, that is the Swiss Medical Association.

guestlist HipVienna 231

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Musil, Robert: 1880-1942, Austrian writer and theatre critic. Alright, maybe we have not completely finished reading the Man without Qualities. But he did not quite finish writing it himself. That makes us even – maybe.

Nazareth, Jesus von: Jewish itinerant preacher.

Netrebko, Anna: Russian star soprano; since 2006 also Austrian citizen.

Nietzsche, Friedrich: German pop singer.

Nomi, Klaus: 1944-1983, by his real name Klaus Sperber. Former background singer of David Bowie; trailblazer of countertenor singing in the pop-genre.

Nuridini, Aki: proud padrone of the legen­dary noble Italian Il Sole in Annagasse. Confidant of Anna Netrebko, Placido Domingo and company.

Oehlen, Albert: German contemporary artist (painting, objects, installations, music).

Pajevic´, Mara Natalija: language genius and great talent for modelling and acting. Daughter of the London University professor Dr. habil. Marko Pajević and the opera singer Anoki von Arx. Pariasek, Ralph: certified physiotherapist, osteopath, director of the Osteopathische Lehrklinik, lecturer at the Wiener Schule für Osteopathie.

Pascal, Blaise: French mathematician and man of letters.

Patzel, Philipp: ex-GM of the Hollmann B­eletage, a very finely drawn boutique-hotel in the centre of Vienna. We are curious what is next in store from this gentleman.

Pavlovic, Roberto: one of the hippest bars in town is his own and his creation: Robertos in Vienna 1010.

Petit, Philippe: French artist on the high wire, magician, pantomime as well as one of the earliest street-jugglers. Petit caused worldwide talk in 1974 by illegally crossing on the high wire from one tower of the World Trade Center in New York City to the other.

234 HipVienna guestlist

Petzel, Nadine: specialist in matters of physiotherapy, cranio-sacral-treatments, spiral dynamics. Developed in 2012 a full-body training method to improve bodily suppleness – pertinent title: cat-feeling!

Pfefferkorn, Axl: director of the luxury hotel Aurelio in Lech am Arlberg. Cooler Bobo-type.

Pietrasch, Andy: the smart German runs the successful interieur-enterprise KARE. Pirouzi, Gregor: CEO Vivienne Westwood in Austria. Creative designer and aesthete.

Pitt, Brad: is Brad Pitt. And that’s the way it goes: if you are a man and a woman tells you that you resemble Brad Pitt then your chances are high. But yes, he can also act, actually.

Plachutta, Mario: King of Beef, legendary beef for decades now.

Poier, Alf: a really funny guy.

Polanski, Roman: Polish film director, scriptwriter and actor. Entangled in the scandal around the accusation of having raped an underage girl in 1977. Unforgotten the charming film version of Dance of the Vampires (1967); Oscar for best director in 2002 for the film The Pianist.

Putin, Wladimir: former President and current Prime Minister of Russia. Maybe one of the most dangerous, certainly one of the most powerful men of the world.

Pynchon, Thomas: American writer and important representative of postmodernism.

Often compared to James Joyce; considered a difficult author.

Rachmaninoff, Sergei: 1873-1943, Russian pianist, composer and director, considered by many as the last Romantic. Wrote amongst ­other pieces four piano concertos of exorbitant virtuosity.

Rachnaev, Roschel: male part of the palatal treat-mastermind-duo. Since 2012 exists in the Vienna Zieglergasse the high-quality and charming Bistro St. Ellas. Musical advisor: Mark Moosleitner.

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Rafreider, Roman: competent ORF-moderator and journalist with the face of a film star.

Rahimi, Ali: networker with style. Successful but stayed real.

Rath, Leonid: runs the shining world enterprise Lobmeyr. Cristal-clear.

Reiter, Karl J.: visionary gastronomist from Tyrol based in Burgenland.

Rinnerhofer, Alexander: Austrian journalist and PR-expert.

Rogan, Markus: Austrian swimming star.

Ronacher, Simone: head of the hotel ­Ronacher.

Ruckendorfer, Christine: owner of the restaurant Aux Gazelles.

Russwurm, Vera: Austrian TV-moderator, journalist and talk-master.

Satie, Eric: 1866-1925, composer of innovative French piano music. Rose from entertainment to serious musician through his ballet Parade in Paris. Wonderfully tender pieces such as Trois Gymnopédies and yes, Je te veux.

Sattler, Alexander: one of the “young and wild” winemakers from Southern Styria.

Saint Laurent, Yves: 1936-2008 – that is the man to whom women owe the pantsuit (“Le Smoking”). And, as he nicely put it: “Fashion does not quite have the rang of art. But for her continuance it needs an artist.”

Schafhausen, Nicolaus: new head of the Wiener Kunsthalle (Vienna Art Museum). ­Successful start. Welcome to Vienna. Cultural manager with international backbone.

Scharapowa, Natalija: owner of the incrowd refuge Nascha’s.

Scheuer, Horst: manager of the restaurant Skopik und Lohn; passionate gastronomist.

Schimanko, Michaela: daughter of the legendary Heinz W. Schimanko. Runs the Eden Bar. Schimanko, Rüdiger: followed daddy’s footsteps and is one of the kings of Vienna nightlife.

238 HipVienna guestlist

Schlacher, Bernd: perfectionistic top-­ gastronomist and master of the in-restaurants Motto, Halle, Kunsthalle.

Schrefl, Anna: creator of the worldwide ­recognised Pilates System Europe and renowned choreographer. If you want to become a Pilatesteacher, this is your one-year schooling. Damn hard but it works.

Schullin, Herbert: founder and owner of Juwelier Schullin.

Schwarz, Wolfgang: legend in the inter­ national star and model business.

Schweiger, Til: yes, another one of these cool and tough guys. He teaches us how to be a real film star even without much Hollywood-presence.

Semler, Maximillian: hotspot in the goldsmith-scene.

Sequard-Base, Max: incarnates in Vienna the cool brand Peak Performance.

Siegel, Guilia: daughter of the composer and producer Ralph Siegel, model, TV-moderator, DJane and actress.

Solti, Georg: Hungarian-British director of Jewish origins.

Stallmajer, Manfred: director of Das Triest and Café Drechsler. Very committed. The real stars of the art-scene live there. One enjoys and remains silent.

Staudacher, Hans: Austrian painter.

Steinbrecher-Pfandt, Christina: artistic director of Viennafair.

Stelar, Parov: born Marcus Füreder, originates from Linz. A pioneer of Electroswing, he gives booked-out concerts since 2005 in numerous European cities including Istanbul and even in Mexico-City.

Svoboda, Stefan: successful scene gastronomist (Freyung 4, Passage).

Swarovski, Alexandra: the most elegant of the Swarovskis.

Tolstunov, Vasily: Russian icon based in Vienna.

Tolstunova, Maria: rising star at the international ballet sky. Dances at the Vienna State Opera.

Tolstunova, Vera: Vienna business-lady with Kirghiz roots. Trade mark: clever and good looking. Sister of the up-and-coming ballet star Maria Tolstunova.

Zaman, Vita: artistic director of Viennafair.

Zimmer, Hans: German film composer and music producer. Lives in Hollywood, nominated already nine times for the Oscar and won it in 1995 with the score for The Lion King.

Numerous Golden Globe and Grammy nominations.

Umar, Erkan: one of the very important gastronomists in Vienna. Trendsetter, and he clearly offers the best turbot in town – no discussion.

Urbanek, Gerhard: owner of the legendary sausage and cheese deli on the Vienna Naschmarkt.

Wagner, Otto: 1841-1918, important Austrian architect of the Belle Époque. We owe him such beauties as the Church am Steinhof or the Stadtbahnstation Karlsplatz. He used to be seen on the 500-Schilling-bill.

Weissenborn, Christiane: director of the hotel Topazz Vienna.

Westwood, Vivienne: leading designer for fashion made in England. Formerly known as Queen of Punk, today she refuses to be fixed to this label.

Widl, Susanne: owner of the legendary Café Korb. Also actress, artist, art collector, model, cover girl, muse, sponsor, patron. “A femme fatale, one of the last,” wrote Elfriede Jelinek.

Wiesenthal, Otto E.: the head and owner of the legendary hotel Altstadt Vienna.

Winter, Hubert: innovative gallery owner right behind the MuseumsQuartier.

Wukonigg, Christian: successful scene gastronomist (Freyung 4, Café Engländer, Vienna 1010).

Zaccaria, Mino: former Maître in Mörwalds Restaurant in the Ambassador, today manager of the Procacci and the Amarantis.

guestlist HipVienna 239

Desirability, verve, presence, appeal, beauty, sex, magic, charm and humour.

Klaus von Oesterreich records various encounters with Russian friends. Art seems to play a major role.

But actually, it is more about love and passion; most of all it’s about the heart. And there’s heart galore when the Russians are involved.

To Russia with love.

Come, step inside ...

S E A S O N 8 EN HIP VIENNA

THE EXTRAORDINARY GUIDE LEADING TO CHARISM

TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE ATTRACTION, DESIRE, CHARISM, MAGIC, ESPRIT, BEAUTY AND SEX

BY KLAUS VON OESTERREICH ENGLISH EDITION

There is also an excellent selection and description of Vienna’s finest, most soulful addresses – hotels, restaurants, bars and the really important galleries.

Klaus von Oesterreich helps you to steer clear from the ordinary; with him, you keep physically and mentally on track.

"A plea for eccentricity" "Klaus von Oesterreich is rather whimsical, but he seeks, and he finds, the soul" "A simple mixture of genius and insanity" "Klaus von Oesterreich is iconic, eccentric, extravagant, adorable"

ISBN 978-3-902-469-56-4 ISBN 978-3-902-469-56-4

9

783902 469564

9

783902 469564

K L AU S VO N O E S T E R R E I C H

Klaus von Oesterreich writes down what elates others.

He seeks for the soul and the heart, he loves the hot and the cold; the lukewarm he spits out.

HIP VIENNA ESSAYISTIC LIFESTYLE BOOK SEASON EIGHT

Desirability, verve, presence, appeal, beauty, sex, magic, charm and humour.

Klaus von Oesterreich records various encounters with Russian friends. Art seems to play a major role.

But actually, it is more about love and passion; most of all it’s about the heart. And there’s heart galore when the Russians are involved.

To Russia with love.

Come, step inside ...

S E A S O N 8 EN HIP VIENNA

THE EXTRAORDINARY GUIDE LEADING TO CHARISM

TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE ATTRACTION, DESIRE, CHARISM, MAGIC, ESPRIT, BEAUTY AND SEX

BY KLAUS VON OESTERREICH ENGLISH EDITION

There is also an excellent selection and description of Vienna’s finest, most soulful addresses – hotels, restaurants, bars and the really important galleries.

Klaus von Oesterreich helps you to steer clear from the ordinary; with him, you keep physically and mentally on track.

"A plea for eccentricity" "Klaus von Oesterreich is rather whimsical, but he seeks, and he finds, the soul" "A simple mixture of genius and insanity" "Klaus von Oesterreich is iconic, eccentric, extravagant, adorable"

ISBN 978-3-902-469-56-4 ISBN 978-3-902-469-56-4

9

783902 469564

9

783902 469564

K L AU S VO N O E S T E R R E I C H

Klaus von Oesterreich writes down what elates others.

He seeks for the soul and the heart, he loves the hot and the cold; the lukewarm he spits out.

HIP VIENNA ESSAYISTIC LIFESTYLE BOOK SEASON EIGHT